Deus Ex Machina
by Pojo-san
Summary: He pulled the hammer back, and placed the end of the barrel against his left temple, with a finger curled around the trigger. No one was going to save him. “Forgive me everyone.” Can Roy save Edward before it's too late? Angst RoyxEd later on with lemon
1. The Color Red

Hello everyone! Pojo-san here! How is everybody? Okay just a few things before we get started so please bear with me:

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters if I did then it would be chalk so full of yaoi goodness that it would be considered extremely adult. If that happened then it would never have left Japan, and then we would never have enjoyed the show... good thing I don't own it, right?

Warnings: adult content and situations, language (thanks to Edward's dirty mouth), and self-mutilation (and that's just for this chapter more warnings later on)

* * *

Chapter 1

The Color Red

"The tongue like a sharp knife... Kills without drawing blood." --Buddha saying

_

* * *

Red truly is a beautiful color. It screams so many emotions all at once. Anger, fire, war, passion… so many things can be linked to this one wonderful color. Then there is black, the misunderstood mysterious color of comfort. Equal in majesty and beauty to red. When put together they create the most breathtaking color. The perfect color. No wonder it's the color of life. No wonder it pumps through the veins of all living things. I can't help but watch in morbid fascination as the color drips from my arm. When it hits water, I stare in awe as it twists and turns like a beautiful dancer enticing me to come closer. However, whenever I reach out to touch, she runs away, leaving me alone in the silence. I have always wondered what it would be like to see it from underwater. I wonder if it would look like liquid fire rising up in the sky. I long to go home and see that breathtaking color that has me so fascinated. Red truly is a beautiful color…_

_Edward_

Ed smiled in satisfaction. He did not know what had come over him. Maybe this would be his journal entry for today.

_Oh, I need to date it and then I get to go home_, he thought as he quickly wrote "Oct.1" at the top of the page, but right when he stood, Hawkeye swooped down on him like he was a mouse coming out of hiding.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked coolly.

"Home," he stated blandly as he slid his journal into his desk drawer. It would probably be safer at his place of residence, but he did not need to worry because everyone at the office would think that it was his alchemy notes.

He eyed the woman. She had blonde hair like him, but her color reminded him of a highlighter while his was more like wheat. Her eyes were a curious blend of red and brown, making it burgundy, and they dared anyone to defy her authority, while his were more like amber or topaz, and they were always glued to a book.

"You need to finish your work." She pointed at the small stack of papers that sat on his desk.

"I'll do them tomorrow," he said dismissively.

"No, you'll do them now," she ordered. He grumbled and sat back down. He wanted to ask her why he needed to finish it if it was due in two days, but he knew better than to cross Lt. Riza Hawkeye. He held his tongue, picked up his pen, and tried to get through the last remnants of his work as fast as he could. "Don't think you can take a break, Colonel," she snapped at Colonel Roy Mustang.

"But my hand is starting to cramp," whined Mustang as he held his limp hand.

"You'll live," she said unsympathetically. Ed signed the last paper and stood.

"Done. Bye," said Edward, and he strode out of the suffocating office. Hawkeye picked up the finished work, and turned to see a look of concern on the Colonel's normally stoic face. The look quickly faded from his features as he bent over his work once more. She walked to his side.

"Roy, are you okay?" she asked her ebony-haired childhood friend. He looked up at her with midnight sky eyes, which matched his hair, and smiled a true smile that was only reserved for the two closest to him. One now because the other had died a few months ago. That smile made her heart do sprints.

"I'm fine Riza. I was just thinking about something," he said softly, shifting his gaze back to his work.

"May I ask what you were thinking about?" she asked. He was silent for minute, debating whether or not to disclose to her what was on his mind. He decided that he should.

"Have you been noticing strange things lately about him? About Fullmetal, I mean?" he asked quietly, so that the others in the office could not hear. It was her turn to be silent as she combed through her own memory.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it's your imagination." She clapped him on his shoulder and switched back to office mode. "Now, I gave you enough of a break. You need to finish those papers by tomorrow." She went back to her desk and to her own stack of papers. Mustang thought that maybe she was right, and that maybe it was his imagination. He hoped that she was right.

* * *

Ed walked briskly into his apartment that was close to the base. He hurriedly put the key inside the lock and twisted it, eagerly seeking the warmth that was guaranteed to protect him from the cold. It was dark and silent. The sun had already set on the other side of the complex, and he would get the first rays of the next day in the morning. He looked around, trying to penetrate the comforting darkness in search of _someone_. There was no sign of the cheery, younger Elric Brother. He did not live here anymore.

He left.

Al had left him and returned to their hometown of Resembool to live with Winry, their childhood friend, and "Granny" Pinako. Alphonse did not need him anymore. He has his body back now and a life. He was no longer bound to his older brother like he used to be, he was free. Edward was no longer needed. He no longer has a purpose. He sighed and reached out for the light switch next to the door. His hand faltered and fell to his side once again. He did not need the ceiling light. He stumbled to his couch, which had a lamp next to it, with the aid of the light from the streetlights below. He turned the knob twice for the medium light to flood as much of his small apartment as it could. His apartment had simple off-white carpet that covered most of the place. To the right, in the corner, was a kitchen with hardwood floors and only one chair at the table. To the left was his bedroom that attached to the linoleum floored bathroom. In there was a simple sink and the standard tub/shower combo. In his living room, there was a red fabric couch, the lamp, a coffee table and two bookshelves along the wall next to the door.

He sighed, plopped himself on the couch, picked up a book that was sitting on the small table in front of him, and read where he left off. After he read the book, he picked up another book from his shelves, and read that one as well. After a few hours, he pulled himself out of the world that book had created for him, and checked his silver watch. It was past midnight. He got up and changed into his black pajama pants and long sleeved top. He sat on the only bed in the place, resting his chin on his balled fists that he propped up on his legs. He stared at a wall for a few minutes before he swung his legs up on the bed.

Sleep never came easy for Edward. He tossed and turned, readjusted his pillows, and, just when sleep was finally within his grasp, he would awaken shortly after he fell asleep. The routine continued for three hours before he just gave up. He rolled over and stared at the alarm clock who innocently told him the time.

_Dammit! I have to get up in a few hours!_ he yelled into his mind. A trickling stream of curse words fell from his mouth as he sat up. His mind was so restless. His thoughts chased away any sleep and ran rampant. He wished Al was here. Then he could be comforted by the gentle voice of his little brother, a voice that could soothe the most savage of beasts. This thought woke up the dark side of him, the side that lived in the hearts of everyone, and the one that always whispered into someone's ear words that blackened their thoughts.

_It was your fault that he left in the first place,_ said the creature. Edward ignored it. If he gave it attention, then he would only be encouraging his own guilty insanity. On the other hand, if he did not, then it might never shut up. He went to his bathroom and splashed water on his face to clear his head. When he pulled the towel away from his damp skin, his heart stopped.

The person that stared back at him was not him. This person was not a man, but a woman with dark skin, dark hair and rose pink bangs. He remembered that those eyes once held kindness and fiery passion, but now they were abused, broken, and silent.

"Rose…" he faintly mumbled knowing full well that he was doing exactly what his dark side wanted. He reached out a hand to touch the face, but halted as the image flinched away from him. She glared at him with pure hatred. He pulled his hand back and turned his head away from the image. He heard a ghostly chuckle. When he stared back at the mirror, he saw his own reflection staring back at him with a cold uncaring smirk.

_Poor girl…_ said his reflection.

"No…No! It wasn't my fault!" Ed knew what dark road this was heading on.

_Poor, poor girl._ The reflection continued on like it had never heard him._ How could this have happen to such a lovely desert bloom? Do you remember what she was like before you destroyed her life? She was so beautiful, so sweet and innocent, but now look at her. Wasting away to nothing…_ Its lips curved upward into a sadistic smile as it sensed Ed's distress. He started shaking his head in denial. _It was your fault._

"No it wasn't!" cried Ed. His mirror world version pretended to not have heard him again.

_She was happy before you came along._ It raised a hand and pointed one of its fingers at him._ You brought war to the doorstep of her town. She was beaten, abused, and raped by the same military that you serve. Now she has to take care of the thing that represents those times._ His resolve was cracking under the pressure. The smile was now ear to ear and seemed to split the face in half. It smelled victory.

_You might as well have raped her yourself. She hates you…_

"Shut the fuck up!" Ed screeched as he pulled back his fist. The reflection cracked as his flesh hand collided with the hard glass. Broken shards clattered onto the sink and floor. It was silent now. The only sound that could be heard was his ragged breathing, and the image in the now broken mirror was his own, for now. He dislodged his hand from the mirror and examined it. It was torn up badly. Blood and glass shards were everywhere. There were two large pieces embedded into his flesh. One was between the knuckles of his ring and middle finger, and the other was on the side of his hand closer toward his thumb.

He cradled his wounded hand against his chest as he slid down the wall next to the sink. He chuckled darkly. Maybe he could finally get some sleep. He stared down at the mess beside him, and it glittered back at him in the fluorescent light. He stood, grabbed the first aid kit and a bowl, and got to work. He forced his hand to stay still as he gently picked out each shard. When he was done, he put rubbing alcohol on it. He hissed as the chemical both burned and cleansed the wounds. He finally wrapped it all up in bandages. He went back to the bathroom, with the bowl in hand, and gathered up all of the glass. He placed the bowl next to the mirror's metal frame and clapped his hands. A shock went through his whole system that was soon followed by a shot of adrenaline as the energy gathered into his hands, and escaped into the broken glass. There was a flash of bright light as the mirror mended itself. Edward examined his handy work, and checked the surrounding area for any glass that he might have missed. When he deemed the area clear, he put the bowl back where it belonged and dropped himself on his couch.

_Well, that killed some time,_ thought Ed.

* * *

Why had he not seen it before? How could he have been so blind? He mentally kicked himself in the face. Mustang had stayed up half the night pondering about Ed, trying to figure out what was different. He still believed that Hawkeye was right about it being his imagination, but the feeling did not go away. The next day, he watched Fullmetal for almost two hours, observing every subtle movement that he made, before it clicked into place. Edward was hiding something. Jean Havoc noticed his boss staring off into space.

"Sir? You in there?" asked Havoc, who stared him with curious azure eyes. His own hair was blonde hair reminded Mustang of Edward's color, wheat and honey.

"I'm fine, Havoc." responded Mustang. Now that he knew what to look for, or should he say what not to look for, he started to see many things about Fullmetal, and he did not like what he saw. He snuck another glance at him before starting his own work.

_

* * *

Why does he keep staring at me?_ Ed thought to himself as he noticed the Colonel's glance at him from the corner of his eye. _It's starting to creep me out a bit._ Edward fidgeted under the man's gaze whenever he felt it, and he soon had enough. It was starting to get very uncomfortable. He mumbled an excuse about needing to do some research, and left as fast as he could without running. Once he reached the library he gave a sigh of relief. He was rarely disturbed here. He pulled a few books off the shelves and huddled at a table in the back of the building.

Time slowly crawled by as he became engrossed in his research. When he picked up another book to cross reference a piece of information, he felt a sharp pain in his left hand. There was a loud thump as the book landed back on the table. He gingerly pressed his steel thumb against his palm until he felt a dull pain. He sighed as his logic told him that he did not get all of glass out of his hand. He draped his coat over the back of his chair, went to the bathroom, and locked the door. After he carefully peeled off both his glove and the tape of his bandages, he examined his hand closely.

His hand was a horrible mess and was still bleeding in a few places. It was going to leave one hell of a scar when it was done healing. After a bit of searching, he managed to separate the affectionate little shard of glass from his hand. He redid his bandages and replaced the glove.

* * *

Mustang flipped through one of Ed's books absent mindedly, waiting patiently for the teen to return. He did not have to wait long though because he soon heard the sound of Edward's uneven footsteps approaching.

"What are you doing here?" Ed asked. Mustang looked over his shoulder, and saw him standing near one of the tall bookshelves with his arms folded across his chest.

"Are you saying that I can't visit one of my subordinates for a pleasant conversation?" said Mustang politely, placing the book back down on the table. He turned around completely as Ed rolled his eyes and strode forward as he shoved a hand in a pocket.

"Well, what do you want?" he shot back blandly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Roy sighed and pulled out a stack of papers from inside his black jacket.

"I wanted to give these to you. If you don't want to get shot by Hawkeye, I highly recommend you do them before you go home." He held out the papers for Fullmetal to take but, of course, he had an ulterior motive for this. He needed to examine the boy up close without making the situation awkward. He knew one sure fire way of doing it, but he did not feel like going to jail. This was easier.

Ed approached Roy, and the suspicions that he had been cataloguing in the morning were confirmed. The boy had lost quite a bit of weight. His clothes were hanging off his body as if they were draped, but when he had his red coat on, which was large by itself, covered that fact up. There were small bags under his eyes, and the eyes themselves were dead. They were dull and lifeless; the fire of determination that Roy had always seen whenever he looked into them had been put out.

"Hey, Mustang! Are you in there?" Roy was snapped out of his daze as a white gloved hand waved across his face.

"It's almost lunchtime, isn't it? Do you want to get something to eat?" he asked, effectively catching Edward off guard.

"Huh?" responded Ed in confusion.

"I said do you want—"

"I heard you the first time!"

"Then why did you need me to repeat it a second time?" Roy smirked.

"I didn't need you to say it again."

"You sure acted like it."

"Fuck you, you bastard!" Ed screamed.

A mischievous glint shone in Mustang's dark eyes. He placed his hands on his hips, leaned forward until he was almost eye level with Edward, placed his trademark smirk on his lips, and spoke quietly so that only the two of them could hear what was being said.

"When, where, and what position?" said the Flame Alchemist, licking his lips suggestively.

It took all of his self-control to choke back his laughter. The look on Edward's face was priceless. It was mix of shock and bewilderment, and it took a moment for the gears in his head to start turning again before he could form a response. Even then, he was having trouble making a single word come out correctly.

"Wha-wha-what?! You sick old pervert!" That shout was music to Roy's ears and his snickering quieted down.

"Come, let's go," He stated, turning to leave.

"Hey, I didn't agree to go!" protested Ed.

"Well, I'm hungry."

"Well, I'm not, so go eat by yourself."

"Your appetite is no great mystery to me."

"Seriously, I'm not hungry," muttered Ed. "Just go without me. Don't waste your money on me." He pulled out his chair and went back to his research with a somber expression. Roy stood still, contemplating. After seeing the boy's condition, he felt the need to get some food into that anorexic body of his. Being that thin was not good for anyone. "I thought you were hungry. What are still doing here?"

"Never thought you would pass up the opportunity to get free food," lied Mustang. "But still, you're coming with me." He grabbed Ed and his red coat, and half dragged him out of the library.

"Wait a second! I said I'm not going!" Ed started to struggle against his superior's grasp. He had never realized how strong the raven haired man was.

"If you have lunch with me, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day." Mustang promised manipulatively. The youth stopped moving and glared at him, studying him for any hint of deception.

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"Let's go." With, that Edward led the way out of the building.

* * *

"So what is this place?" asked Edward as he looked at the building. The place was a small Ma and Pa restaurant, and gave off a homely feeling.

"It is a teashop called The Kettle, Fullmetal. The name is on the sign there," said Mustang as he indicated a hanging sign above the doorway that was in the shape of a tea kettle with yellow writing on it. "Or maybe you can't read it because of the _small_ print."

Three…two and a half…

"Who are you calling so small that a period could crush him?!?!" screeched Edward, and few bystanders stopped in mid-step when they heard him shout.

"You," said Mustang with a smirk.

"You are so infuriating!" he growled

"I try," the Colonel replied as he held the door open for him. Inside, there were old wooden chairs, and cast iron lamps hung on the walls. On the far wall there was a tall blue hutch that held teapots, cups, and candied fruit; right in front of them was a glass counter-case filled with jams, jellies, and every single cake possible. Ed made his way to the case to drool over the cakes. There was white, chocolate, cheesecake, carrot, Angel Food, Moist, Drachma Tower, Sponge, Cretan Ice, and Xing Dragon cake. They all looked so good. There was pie too. Apple, cherry, blueberry, raspberry, pumpkin, blackberry—

"Fullmetal, don't make all of the desserts soggy," said Mustang from behind him.

He straightened up and followed Mustang and the hostess to a table. Once they ordered their drinks, silence descended on them. Edward should not have come here, he could feel it in his gut, and his gut had never lied to him before. He hunted his mind for a topic to talk about.

"So, how did you find this place?" he asked as he read at the menu.

"I stumbled upon it one day," replied the other man. "I like it. Good food, nice people, quiet, and it's out of the way." Silence fell on them once again, and was only broken when their waitress came to take their orders. "That's all you're having? A sandwich?"

"I told you, I'm not hungry," said Ed as his eyes drifted around the room.

Mustang sighed and took a sip of his honey tea. Another silence fell on them.

"So what are you researching now?" asked the Colonel in an attempt to make conversation.

"Sound Pressure Alchemy." said Ed as he stirred the contents of his drink.

"Sound Pressure?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to figure out how to concentrate it in an open area without harming the surrounding area."

"I never heard of this branch of alchemy before."

"That's because it's fairly new. I should know. I discovered it." Ed was always the prodigy.

"Well, can you explain some of this to me?" Mustang was genuinely curious now.

"You know that sound produces a small amount of pressure as its waves go through a medium, correct?"

"Correct. That's because it compresses the molecules in the air as it moves."

"Yes. So if you increase the decibels that the sound is producing, then more pressure is made. I was trying to get more information before I told anyone, but what can you do about it?" Their food came, a bowl of soup and salad for Mustang and a small ham and cheese sandwich for Edward. They ate in silence. The older male was expecting the younger one to wolf down his food like everything else that he ate but on the contrary. He meekly nibbled his food as he stared down at his plate with a pensive expression. He had not even eaten one-fourth of his sandwich when Roy finished his salad. The nagging feeling that he should not be here had not left Edward. It was gnawing at the inside of his stomach, making him nervous. Without thinking, he bent his left hand at the wrist, gripped the edge of his coat sleeve, and gently tugged it while taking another small bite of his sandwich. Mustang took note of this.

Ed was halfway done when he placed his food back on the plate, and Mustang got his dessert. Ed's stomach started to twist itself in pain, but he ignored it and kept his face as straight as possible.

"Do you want a bite?" Mustang offered, indicating his blackberry cheesecake slice. Edward shook his head.

"No, it's all right." He stared out of lace covered window that the table was placed next to. It was bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. People were walking down the sidewalks, smiling, laughing, and talking. Children were playing and giggling, birds were serenading to the world, and butterflies filled the gray forest air with color. All of this was here just to mock him. Edward's lips curled back from his teeth, and he released a soft yet vicious snarl from the back of his throat. Mustang looked up from his dessert and noticed the expression of wrath on the blonde's face.

"Fullmetal, what's wrong?" he asked.

_I hate this place, this city, this country. I hate this place so much. The people here are stupid, selfish, hate-filled creatures._

"Fullmetal…" Said person was starting to growl.

_That's all people know now, isn't it? All they know is how to hate, so that they can hide their own weaknesses and dark secrets from the world. They find a reason to hate that person, place, group, or whatever, and expose it right down to the core. Deep down everyone hates. Born from that hate comes stupidity and greed. That's the reason for—_

"Edward!"

He felt a finger flick his forehead.

"Ow! What was that for?" exclaimed Ed as he rubbed the injured area.

"I was trying to get your attention." his superior stated plainly. "Time to go back to work." Roy sighed heavily, imagining all of his paperwork somehow mysteriously turning to ash.

* * *

Their feet pounded the street pavement as they trudged back to Central HQ. Edward's mismatched footsteps stopped just within the gate.

"Colonel Bastard, here," said Ed as he grabbed the Colonel's hand and shoved something into it. Mustang opened his hand when Ed's retreated and inside was a ten cen bill. When he opened his mouth, Ed stopped him. "I told you not to waste your money on me so here's payback for my lunch." Roy decided to drop the subject in favor of one more pressing.

"Are you okay?" he asked, carefully.

"Why do you care?" Ed gently tugged at his sleeve.

"You've been acting strangely."

"Just leave me alone." He tugged at his sleeve a little bit harder. His gut became more twisted and sent waves of nausea coursing through him. He needed something to distract him from his sickness or else he would throw up. He gripped his flesh arm with his metallic one over a previously created sensitive wound. He clamped down hard on the injury and squeezed. The pain did preoccupy him slightly from the nausea, but he desperately needed to get out of there.

"What's wrong? If you have a problem, talk to me about it."

Edward snapped at the wrong person at the wrong time.

"Problem?" His words were saturated with malice. "I'll tell you what my problem is! My problem is you! You act like you care about everyone else, but in reality you don't." His vice-like grip tightened around his arm, but that started to be not enough to block the nausea. He needed to leave quickly before the inevitable happened.

"You'll break your arm!" said Roy in alarm as he watched Ed trying to crush his own arm. He gave Roy an uncaring look as he rushed over to Edward, and tried to pry the steel fingers away from the tender flesh. The look of indifference was washed away with rage, and sheer malice dripped off of his words once again.

"Don't patronize me, Colonel." he spat. Mustang froze. "All you care about is yourself and getting a promotion. As long as you achieve your goal it doesn't matter how many people you walk over." He viciously pushed the older man away with his automail arm. "Don't pretend to care about me." He marched off, leaving a stunned Flame Alchemist in his wake.

When he got back to the library, Ed hurried to the nearest bathroom and knelt before his porcelain god just in time for his body to violently reject his lunch.

_Dammit! I knew that I shouldn't have gone to lunch with him._ He rinsed out the stomach acid from his mouth with sink water and looked himself over in the mirror. No wonder Mustang noticed, he looked like crap. There were bags under his eyes from the many sleepless nights; his hair was tousled because he did not bother with brushing it anymore and just threw it into its braid; his eyes were hollow looking and gave him the appearance of a corpse, and his clothes hung off of his very thin frame. He truly looked revolting.

He started to think about what he had said to Mustang. The man had just opened his arms to him and what did he do? He ripped them off, shoved them down his throat, and basically told him to fuck off. Oh god, even though he did not believe in one, he despised himself so much right now. He would not blame the man for loathing him right now. He probably did anyway. All Edward had done was made a mess of things ever since the accident. Send him on the simplest mission, and he would find a way to screw it up. He would always find a way to screw anything up, like now. He was nothing but a pain to Mustang and to everyone around him. Their lives would be much easier if he was gone. There was one way he could make it up to Mustang, even if it is just a little bit.

He pulled off his red and black coat. His entire left arm was littered with scars, like a battlefield. Some were faded by the sands of time, and others were fresh, especially the angry red mark on his upper arm that had been agitated by his automail hand. He laid his jackets down on the sink next to him, and pulled out his military issued State Alchemist pocket watch. He hated that thing because it was the leash that the military had placed on him. He flipped it open and inside was a small folded cloth. He pulled it out, snapped its silver case closed, and placed it back in his pocket. He unfolded the cloth and nestled inside its folds were two shiny razorblades. He grabbed one and pulled off his gloves. He pressed the edge against his skin. He pushed the blade into his body and horizontally across his forearm. He felt his skin being sliced apart. A pang of pain ran through his nerves and was ebbed away when his endorphins kicked in. Blood trickled down his arm as it escaped from its fleshy prison. He gripped the edge of the sink. The cut was not good enough for him. He needed to make it deeper. He pushed the blade deeper into his skin, and more blood seeped out and poured down his arm. He let out a sigh as his natural painkillers kicked in again and temporarily numbed the area. He repeated the process until he had a column of cuts running down his arm and blood poured out. He watched in morbid fascination as his blood went down his arm, over his middle finger, into the sink, and down the drain in a uniform stream. He lifted his bloodied hand to his eye level.

How could something so simple be so important? Why is this liquid so highly thought of? Ed knew that it transported nutrients and oxygen through the body, and without it one would die. He was not looking for the scientific reason behind the want, but the psychological reason for the need. In horror stories, vampires had to drink blood to survive, and people in the old days practiced blood rituals and rights. It is put up on a pedestal by everyone, even worshipped like a god. Maybe the reason why was because it looks so beautiful in both the light and the dark. He did not know the true reason.

He examined the stream. The blood was still spilling over his middle finger. Then he acted completely out of character. He opened his mouth and inserted his blood covered finger. A sharp metallic taste danced on his palate and something inside of him snapped. An odd lust filled him that gave him a macabre desire to drink. He withdrew his finger from his mouth, licked the back of his hand, and up his arm. When his saliva got into his wounds he felt a small stinging sensation. He placed his mouth over one of his cuts and gently nursed the wound, draining it dry. Once he was satisfied, he pulled back and licked his lips. His mouth curled into a nefarious grin, revealing bloodstained teeth.

_Red truly is a beautiful color,_ thought Edward as he licked his lips.

* * *

Well, there you have it. Please read & review. I need to know whether or not if I should keep writing it, so please tell. I also accept constructive criticism. Have a nice day!


	2. Orphans, Eyes, and Wills

-Pojo-san slides into view, singing and dancing- We are no strangers to love. You know the rules and so do I. A full commitment's what I'm thinking of. You wouldn't get this from any other guy. I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling. Never going to give you up! Never going to let you down! Never going to run around and desert you! Never going to make you cry! Never going to say good-bye! Never going to tell a lie and hurt you! -turns around sees you and shuts up- O.O... -stares at you like a deer caught in headlights- O.O...Hi... so... how have you been?

Anyway! The funny thing is that with this chapter. The total number of words for this entire story is OVER 9000!!

Greg-kun: WHAT 9000?! THERE'S NO WAY THAT CAN BE RIGHT!! CAN IT?!

LoL just kidding, but it actually goes over 12,000... I can't believe that I have typed so much...hmmm... I wonder who actually reads this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters. They belong to their creator who had worked diligently to provide us with some delicious and nutritious goodies.

Warnings: adult content and situations, language (thanks to Edward's dirty mouth), self-mutilation, and blood.

Rating: M for mature audiences only!

You have been warned. So enjoy another helping of Deus Ex Machina! Have fun! -starts singing again- Never going to give you up! Never going to let you down! -slides out of view-

* * *

Chapter 2

Orphans, Eyes, and Wills

"Pain is a double edge sword" ― Yuna

* * *

"Is Mustang sick?" muttered Havoc to Hawkeye. She sighed and Fuery leaned in, sharply contrasting the two blondes with his own black hair.

"He must be," Fuery whispered. "He is actually doing work." They turned their heads in unison. Mustang scanned a document, signed it, placed it in a pile, picked up another paper, and repeated the cycle. Their eyes traveled down to a large pile on the floor that sat next to the desk. It was now taller than said piece of furniture. Right next to it was another pile that slowly catching up to its predecessor. Riza knew what this meant. There was only one reason why Roy would be doing his paperwork without complaint; he was trying to take his mind off of something. She had seen this happen before on numerous occasions, and had enough experience to know that she would not get a word out of him unless his pen was replaced with an alcoholic beverage of some kind. She was forced to wait it out until then. Meanwhile, Mustang was trying to rationalize the situation that happened earlier.

_What has gotten into Fullmetal?_ he thought. His pen made loud scratches against the paper that his ear could not hear. _I have never seen him act that way before towards me or anyone else._ The teen had a temper, that wasn't a secret and he would have outbursts, but nothing like this. This was first because Mustang knew that Fullmetal would keep the truly spiteful words inside of him, and only used them when anyone mentioned the father that left his family over ten years ago. _Well, his irritability _could_ be explained by the lack of sleep, _thought Mustang. _But is he just not getting enough sleep? His brother left six months ago. _Roy tapped his pen on his desk while he was trying to put two and two together. _Maybe that's the reason. He's probably worried about his younger brother. They have been really close, and they've been through a lot of things together._ Part of his mind accepted that answer, but the other part of him believed that there was completely different reason that explained it. It was that part of him that brought the image of Ed tugging at his sleeve to the forefront of his mind. _What is he trying to hide now, besides his automail? A drug habit? Some drugs do leave behind marks like puncture wounds from needles if it was heroin. Is he on heroin? Oh God, I hope he isn't._

The door suddenly banged open, signaling the arrival of the Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric. Roy looked up from his paperwork for the first time since his lunch break. They made eye contact briefly before Ed looked away with down trodden eyes. Did Roy just see shame in his eyes? It washed away before he could fully decipher it. He watched as Ed traded his completed work for more, and sat down at his desk, his movements lethargic. Hawkeye shot Mustang a worried look and he returned it in kind. His worry mounting, he went back to his work.

* * *

When Edward met the eyes of the Colonel, he saw the confusion and hurt in them. He was out of line when he said those spiteful words, and he felt ashamed of himself for not being able to control his temper when he needed to the most. Though he would never tell the man, he did repay him slightly, in his own way. Even though he risked being found out every day, no one would ever know. The only way that someone was ever going to find out was if they caught him in the act. But that was never going to happen. He was very careful when it came to that, and made sure that there was no evidence left behind.

He shifted his gaze to Hawkeye, not being able to look at Mustang anymore. He got more work and retreated to his desk. He could feel the tension in the room between him and his superior. He swore he could have cut it with a knife. A few times he was tempted to glance at Mustang to see what emotions, if any, flitted across his face. He resisted the urge, and kept his head down. He tried to concentrate on his work, however, it required little to no brain power to do so, and it mostly kept his hands entertained. His mind wondered back in time to the incident after lunch. Normally, he would be able to keep hate of that magnitude inside his mind, even when his temper got the best of him. He remembered the few occasions when he let go of such rage. The first was when Tucker turned Nina into a chimera, an event that he still could not put behind him, and another was when he found out the key ingredient of the Philosophers Stone was live human beings. Each one had a reason, however, the incident with the Colonel did not. He could not fully explain his behavior except maybe it was because of his lack of sleep. The Colonel definitely hated him now— as it should be. He had earned it, after all.

_Just like everyone else,_ he thought to himself.

Mustang reached for another paper, but all he grabbed his desk. He eyes travelled to his hand to discover that there were none left.

"We'll take them down, Sir," said Lt. Hawkeye. She signaled to the other men, and they each grabbed as much as they could carry. She followed them out of the room with her own pile, and in a subtle gesture to give Edward and Mustang some privacy to sort out their problem. The door clicked shut and there was a disturbing silence. The only sound that was being made was the scratching sound of Ed's pen on the papers. Roy wanted to talk about what happened, but he did not know what to say. He did not even know how to begin. Whenever he thought of opening his mouth, his throat would dry up and tighten. His mind was trying to protect itself from further harm while it was still repairing, as if he needed that right now. He saw black and red in his line of sight and refocused his gaze.

"I'm done for today. Would you give this to Hawkeye when she comes back, sir?" asked Ed. Roy nodded and took away the finished work. Ed turned and walked away from the desk. Roy still needed to talk to him, and he was already halfway to the door.

_Do it now!_

"Edward," Mustang forced himself to say. Ed paused right in mid-step. Why did he use his name? Mustang never used his name. He placed his foot back down on the floor and half-turned back to the desk.

"What?" he snapped. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. He just wanted to be alone in his apartment, yet, at the same time, he craved company. He hated paradoxes.

"I wanted to talk about what happened at lunch today." Both of them instantly got a gut feeling that the conversation was not going to end well.

"There is nothing to talk about." Ed desperately wanted to avoid this. What was done was done, and he did not want to drag it out. He knew what he did was stupid.

"Then let me ask you something," compromised Mustang. Edward gauged him for a second until Roy added, "Humor me." He received a stiff nod. He rose from his desk and walked around it and stood in front of it. He leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest, pondering his next words. "Do I really come off like that?" he finally asked.

"Like what? A bastard? Yeah, all the time," was Ed's answer.

"No, that's not what I'm asking. What I meant was do I really act like I don't care?"

Ed didn't reply right away. He had to think of his answer based on all of his past experiences with dark-haired man. He sighed.

"Yes," he finally answered.

"I…see…" Mustang slowly said as he stared at Ed. He was trying to pick the young man apart and analyze him, like any good scientist would, in an attempt to figure him out. Edward started fidgeting under the man's calculating gaze. He never liked it when people stared at him. It made him feel like some kind of exotic animal at the zoo. He did not like the extra attention. This caused him to fidget even more and nervously tug at his left sleeve.

"Can I go now?" Edward asked, still tugging at his sleeve. Dark eyes traveled down his body to his arm, watching him pull at the fabric. He immediately dropped his right hand to his side and hid his left in his pocket, silently cursing his habit.

"No." Their eyes were locked on each other once more. "We are going to discuss what happened."

"No."

"Yes we are." Ed knew what was going on. They were both acting like two male wolves fighting to be the alpha. Mustang was trying to force him to be submissive while he was fighting back to be dominant. He would have to stay on his toes for this fight.

At that moment, the door opened for Hawkeye and company, and they filed in. Roy could not let Ed escape from him.

"Sir we –" But Hawkeye never finished her sentence.

"Everyone leave," he barked, his eyes never leaving the solid golden pair in front of him. He carefully studied those eyes. He remembered that they were once molten; how they use to smolder and flow. That small fire of determination kept them the liquid gold that constantly churned and bubble with unwavering devotion to his younger brother.

"Sir?" Fuery timidly asked.

"Get out! All of you!" seethed Mustang dangerously, and then added in the same threatening tone, "Before I use someone as kindle for a bonfire." To emphasize his point, with his arms still folded, he snapped his fingers. He felt a charge like electricity run through his entire being. The charge sped down his right arm and to the red transmutation circle on the back of his white Reactive Cloth glove. It paused for not even a third of a second before it raced through his fingers, into the sparks, and out into the air. It made its journey to the part of air he wanted to transmute, compressed it, and ignited with a small explosion. A small fireball literally appeared out of thin air and mushroomed up. It dissipated before it had a chance to reach the ceiling. The whole process took only a few seconds. Fuery squeaked and ran out of the room, followed by Breada, Havoc, and Falman. Hawkeye stayed behind.

"Now," stated Mustang, still using the same tone. Hawkeye turned on her heel and marched out of the office. Ed motioned that he was going to leave too, but Roy caught him before he even had a chance to move. "You are not dismissed, Fullmetal." His tone was deadly and the door clicked shut. He never once broke eye contact with Edward. He remembered how he used to love to look in those eyes and see that bright flame. A small smirk made its way to his lips. Whenever he looked into those eyes, he remembered that he, the Flame Alchemist, used to get burned. Now, however, the fire had gone out, and the molten gold had cooled and hardened. He was now staring at cold metal.

* * *

When the gang returned, Ed knew then that he could slip out and escape. Dread seeped back into him as Mustang's eyes grew darker, if that was even possible, and locked on to him. It was as if the man knew what he was thinking. He could not look away. Those dark eyes held him prisoner. He dared not move.

He then heard the man give an order for everyone to get out in a tone that Ed had never heard before. It held the air of utmost authority and it sent a shiver down his spine. He felt that familiar tingle in the air that any alchemist would recognize; he heard an explosion, felt the heat on his back, then a squeak, footsteps, and then silence. Hawkeye must be used to this because she did not even flinch. She was unfazed by all of this. Mustang must have done something like this during the war. He sent her out of the room and Ed was about to follow his only escape, but he was caught

"You are not dismissed, Fullmetal." Another shiver shot down his spine. That tone was deadly and dared him to defy it. He stood rooted to the spot. Mustang's eyes grew even darker. Ed began to wonder if Mustang's eyes were really black or just a dark blue. Maybe if he got close enough he could tell, but right now he had to keep his distance or risk the Colonel finding out his dirty little secret. What had those eyes seen during the Ishballan War? All Ed knew about it came from books, never having a first hand account. Both Hawkeye and Mustang refused to talk about it, and they were the only two on the team that actually steeped out onto the battlefield. He would never find out. A smirk pulled him out of his thoughts.

_What's he smirking about now? Bastard…_ thought Ed. He hated that smirk with a fiery passion. At that moment, he really wanted to go over there and bash Mustang's head into his own desk.

He once heard that eyes were the windows to the soul, but what he was staring at was a brick wall. He would have had better luck with a doorknob or something along those lines. The raven-haired man was always very calm, collective, and had strict control over his emotions. Nothing would ever show through. His eyes yielded nothing to Edward, and he, consequently, did not know what was coming. He would just have to wait and be on guard, which he did not like. Especially now, since Mustang was giving him the judging look again with a piercing gaze that that he felt saw right through him. He started to fidget once more.

What he expected was for Mustang to manipulate an answer out of him, like he always did; to dance around the subject and leave Ed confused. What he did not expect was for him to get straight to the point.

"Is everything in your life okay, Edward?" asked Mustang, concern coloring his voice and eyes. His sincerity caught Ed off guard for the second time today.

"I'm fine," replied Ed too quickly.

"You don't look fine to me," countered Mustang. "In fact, you look everything but fine."

"It's none of your business," stated Ed defensively.

"Besides me what is your problem?" He was starting to get annoyed as the youth started to growl at him. "Is it because Alphonse left?" Ed stiffened and stood rigid, the words striking the weak point he had gone to so much trouble to conceal. Roy knew then that he had hit the mark. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Don't talk about something that you know nothing about!" Ed snarled viciously as he tried to rein in his anger.

"Enlighten me."

Ed let out a derisive laugh. "Like I need to tell you. You know everything, don't you, _Mustang_?" A small chuckle escaped his lips and his voice became softer with insanity. "You're always keeping an out eye for me, aren't you? Always hiding in my shadow. Following me wherever I go, watching everything I do. Waiting, ever so patiently, for me to slip during a mission, so you can pounce." A small laugh fell out of his mouth. "Don't think that I didn't know that Havoc followed me, on _your_ orders, in Vanar when I had to find those chimeras last month. You need to find someone better. I spot him too easily."

Roy did not betray anything on his face. He had, in fact, sent Havoc after Ed to keep an eye on him. He only it did for the boy's safety, just in case it was too much for Ed to handle.

"No, I don't know everything, _Edward_," said Mustang and then he admitted, "I'm concerned about you."

Ed let out a snort. "That's rich." He received a death glare from Mustang. The whole situation was becoming very frustrating, as both sides were too stubborn to back down until the other gave. They were soon trying to stare each other down, refusing to look away or even blink.

Ed scoffed and said, "I don't have to deal with this."

"I did not say you could go."

"Screw you!" Ed let loose all of his anger that he had carefully kept in check up until that point. "I don't need to talk to an asshole like you! Go to Hell!" Mustang let out a frustrated growl.

_Why does he have to be so stubborn?_ thought Mustang. _Why can't he understand that I'm only trying to help? Why doesn't he accept help from those that try give it to him? Why does he have to be so insistent in proving how grown-up he is by doing everything himself? Why can he not accept me or anyone into his life? Why does he not allow anyone to touch him? His heart? His life? Why?_

So many whys with no answers to them, and no time to think on them. Edward's words stung. Natural human instincts kicked in. He wished to inflict any form of pain on Ed for everything that he had done or said to him, past and present. His dark eyes narrowed as his anger took control and he vaguely saw Ed flinch away from him.

"No wonder nobody wants you!" seethed Mustang. "Who would want a short-tempered, bitchy, little _orphan_ like you?!" His hand immediately clamped over his mouth as if he was trying to catch the words as they left. But he could not catch sound. It was too late. The words soared through the air to Ed and did their damage.

There was no screaming, no fists flying in his direction. Just silence. Edward's expression was stunned like he had been slapped in the face. From that day forth, Roy stopped believing in "sticks and stones". He knew what he said had wounded Ed badly. The agony was evident in the topaz-colored eyes— those words had cut him like a knife.

"Edward, I'm–"

"Don't," said Ed softly, and his face went blank. "Don't apologize when you were only speaking the truth." His eyes dropped to the floor. His head was bowed and his shoulders were hunched forward, making him look like a kicked dog that had disobeyed his master. "You are right. Who would want an orphan like me?" He turned to his desk, pulled out his journal from its drawer, and tucked it into his inside coat pocket. He went back to the door and rested his hand on the knob. He looked over his shoulder with a sad smile on his face and said, "Good-bye, Colonel." Then he was gone.

* * *

Riza waited patiently outside of the door with the rest of the team after getting yelled at by Roy. Furey and Breda could not sit still, Havoc leaned out of an open window with a lit cancer stick in his mouth, and Falman was just standing by a wall not moving. Then the shouting started, which was a good sign in her book. Shouting meant that they were working out the problem in their own strange way. At least it was better than nothing. Then there was a deathly silence.

All of their heads immediately snapped up at the door. There was never complete and total silence during their arguments. Riza started to worry, though it never showed on the outside. The door then opened as Edward walked out, his movements dreamlike.

"Hey, Edward, what's up?" asked Havoc, but he was ignored as Ed walked past, not even sparing a glance at them. Something had gone horribly wrong. Riza caught up to Ed and stood in front of him, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"What did Roy do?" she whispered to him. He looked up at her and she almost staggered back as if he had just pushed her. His eyes were devoid of life. What scared her most was that he was not looking at her, more like through her. He gently shrugged off her hand and she let it fall. He twisted his body to walk by her and disappeared down a flight of stairs. She stood there, staring at the spot where Ed's face had been, trying to calm her own burning rage. Since his real mother died from an unknown illness, she had taken on that maternal role, and had always seen Ed as a son. If others were picking on him, she would secretly straighten them out by promising them, with a smile on her face, that they would never have children if they kept it up. Now, someone had hurt her son and that was unforgivable, no matter who had done it. That was not limited to the Colonel that made her heart flutter.

She stood up straight and marched back into the office with company in tow. Her anger dissipated when she took in the sight of Roy. He was a wreck. He was hunched over slightly, and his eyes were troubled. She could not hit him like she originally planned. She would just have to let him suffer, so he could go apologize to Edward properly. She figured emotional punishment was worse than any physical punishment known to man.

Mustang truly felt like a bastard. He was pissed off with himself and did not hear the others come back in.

"What happened?" asked Havoc. Their superior suddenly slammed his fist down on his desk.

"Fuck!" he bellowed.

"Sir, language!" snipped Hawkeye. He turned on her with a gaze of fury.

"Don't you people have something to do? Get to work!" They jumped and scrambled back to work. Everyone except Hawkeye, who strode to his desk. Roy gave out an irritated huff as he dropped himself back in his chair. He swiveled his chair to the window behind him and saw a retreating flaxen-haired head, in the light of the setting sun, turn the corner. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He scrunched his eyes shut before rubbing his face with both hands and staring up at the ceiling.

He heard a throat being cleared behind him and spun around to face Riza, who waited patiently. She was giving him an all knowing look.

"Sir, you have no other work and have caught up for the day. You may go home if you want and think about what you are going to say tomorrow." He blinked in surprise and confusion. Proving her mind reading abilities once again she said, "Leave him alone for tonight. You are going to have to fix your mess, so prepare to beg tomorrow." She turned on her heel and sat back down at her desk.

Mustang pondered her words and agreed that it would be best to stay away from him for tonight. He definitely would be begging for forgiveness; Edward wasn't the kind of person to forgive and forget any time soon. He turned his chair back to the window, and gazed up into the clouded sky, his mind drifted back to the moment when Ed left. He didn't like the tone of finality in Ed's voice when he said good-bye.

* * *

Ed was walking in a daze. He could hear other military personal whispering to each other, but he did not listen. He could look at some of them and they flinched back, but he did not see. All of his senses tuned out his surroundings.

Everything seemed to speed up and slow down at strange intervals. When he was going down the stairs on the third floor, he somehow wound up at the front door of HQ in just a few seconds. Then, when he had to pay attention to the stairs and walk around the flagpole in front of the building, it felt like he was walking for hours to get from the building to the gate. It was as if he was trapped in his own little bubble where the normal logical flow of time did not exist. He did not even bother trying to understand this phenomenon. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to really care.

The last part of his argument with Mustang was replaying over and over again in his mind. Specifically one word stood out above the rest.

Orphan…

Edward never considered himself one because he always _had_ Alphonse. He guessed he was one now. He has no family anymore. His father left because he never wanted to have Ed, his mother's illness took her away, and Alphonse… Ed did not know if he even had a guardian. Probably not. All he did was cause problems for everyone. Mustang was right, who would want someone like him, the sinner?

His resolve was strengthening. Soon it would not matter anymore, everything will end tomorrow, and it will all be over. However, this did not bring him out of his stupor, and it only fueled a building anger.

He continued to walk, dreamlike and lethargically, to his destination that was in the opposite direction of his apartment. There was one place he has to go first before he could go home. His path led him through a dangerous part of the city, but it was the fastest way. If he took the long way around, it would only add on an extra twenty minutes. He turned down a street that was famous for its bars and clubs. Towards the end, Ed accidentally bumped into someone who was obviously drunk.

"Sorry," mumbled Ed as he turned up an alley that was another shortcut. Several feet into the passage he heard a voice calling out to him.

"Wait!" It was the guy he ran into. He was slightly pudgy, with a receding hairline, and a wedding band was wrapped around his left ring finger. He stumbled to Ed, using the wall as a support.

"Can I ax you something?" slurred the man. The smell of alcohol was strong on his breath.

"What?" bit Ed, he really wanted to get away from this drunken man. He might get intoxicated himself from the fumes alone.

"Do you have five bucks fur alcohol research?" said the man holding out his hand, palm up.

_You have to be joking, _thought Ed. _He's either really drunk or really stupid._

"I don't have time for this," muttered Ed to himself.

"Hey, don't go." A hand suddenly grasped his shoulder and slammed it into one of the brick walls of the alley. He glared at the drunk before him, Ed did not like how his eyes traveled up and down his body. It was almost as if he was being appraised.

"You're kind of purdy, little lady. The name's Larry."

"I'm a guy, you cock sucker!" screamed Ed. He did not mind being called small as much as being called a girl. A furious look washed over Larry's face.

"You better watch your mouth, whore!" Then the hands were coming at Ed's throat. He grabbed the man's left wrist with his flesh hand, sidestepped him, and brought the heel of his metallic palm to the elbow. There was sharp snap as the joint gave way to the powerful force exerted onto it. The balding man backed away, cradling his broken arm. The alcohol in his system was delaying his natural response to pain.

"You little bitch! You fucking, bitchy little brat!"

_Who would want a short-temper, bitchy little orphan like you?!_

Pure rage flooded Edward. Everything turned red, and the drunk turned into another man who was tall, pale skinned, with jet black hair and eyes to match. He tackled the apparition into the cold pavement beneath them. Ed sat on top and let loose all of his rage with his left fist. He could do more damage with his prosthetic limb, but he wanted to feel the primal pleasure of his fist making contact, to know that he was inflicting pain on the man beneath him. Larry started to yell, but was cut off when he felt a biting steel fist hit his jaw, breaking it with a sickening crunch. Ed knew he should stop, but found he could not. He could not find the energy to stop. The only color he could see was red and it was not fading until all of his anger was gone. So he continued to repeatedly hit Larry over and over again. Soon he was no longer struggling, and Ed's fist eventually slowed down and came to a stop. He slowly lowered it to his side. His fist throbbed painfully yet it was satisfied. He felt the wounds on his knuckles screaming at him for putting them through that kind of abuse when they were not fully healed. His breathing was labored as he tried to calm himself down. The last dregs of his violent mood ebbed away and panic sank in. The drunken man, Larry, was not moving anymore.

_Did I kill him?_ was the one and only thought that ran through Ed's mind. He quickly climbed off, and bent over to put his ear to the man's nose and mouth, searching for any signs of life. No, he was not dead. He was breathing, even though it came out in shallow ragged gasps. Ed put his finger on the carotid artery in the neck. There was a pulse. Relief filled him.

_He didn't die. I didn't kill him. I'm not a murderer_. His relief fled him as two new emotions swamped him. He silently rose, stunned at what he had done and horror for what he almost did. He backed away gradually as he took in everything. Larry had a busted lip, a broken jaw, an arm that was bent in the wrong direction, a black eye that was in infancy, and blood ran down his face. Ed's eyes locked onto his own hands as his back ran into a brick wall. Crimson liquid was misted and splattered on his white gloves. He searched the alley for any witnesses and found none.

He did the first that came to his mind. He ran. He ran deeper into the forgiving and welcoming darkness of the alley.

* * *

A man sat at his desk in an office, reviewing a case when he looked up at his wall clock. His seven o'clock was late. He decided to stretch his legs and stood, yawning. He was wearing a blue suit, with a white button up dress shirt, and a red tie. He ran a hand through his spiky black hair as dirt brown eyes took in his surroundings. Huge file cabinets stood behind him, like menacing metal giants that held all of his and his mentor's case files. A tall potted plant sat next to his desk, the one that Mia, his mentor, would lovingly take care of. He smiled at the fond memory of his deceased mentor and friend.

Then suddenly loud theme music blasted his ear drums. His eyes darted across the room to a girl in her late teens. She was hunched over a small television that gave out a black and white picture. He could not help but admire this new modern marvel. Everyone that he knew was glued to this entertainment device. Just like the girl, Maya, was right now.

"Nick! Nick, it's starting!" she squealed happily, indicating a new kids show called _Pink Princess_. Nick wasn't even his real name, but he had grown to accept it. Maya wore a purple kimono and necklace of large wooden beads hung around her neck. Her hair and eyes were the same color as his even though they are not related. Her fists were clenched in excitement. The door opened and Maya looked up with her sparkly child-like eyes at the newcomer.

"Edo!" she stated with excitement as she pretty much tackled the man.

"Hello, Maya," said Edward as he patted her head. "Hello, Mr. Wright."

"Just call me Phoenix. Mr. Wright makes me sound old," said Phoenix as he shook the lad's hand. He could not believe someone this young was in the military, and a state alchemist to boot.

"Right, sorry that I was late. I… uh… ran into some trouble on the way."

"Are you okay? They didn't hurt you, did they?" asked Maya as she proceeded to check every square inch of the boy.

"No, I'm fine. They didn't hurt me."

"Oh, really," Her eyes narrowed. "Then what is this?" She held up Ed's left hand to show that it was covered in bandages.

"What happened?" asked Phoenix.

"That happened earlier today," said Ed as he gently pulled his hand out of Maya's grip. "An accident." Music started to play from the TV.

"The show is starting! Come watch it with me, Edo!" she tugged on his arm.

"I have an appointment with Phoenix."

"He can wait. Please, please, please, please?!" she begged. Ed looked up at the lawyer that stood by his desk.

"It's ok, Ed. She's been dying to see you again."

"Yay!" she cried as she dragged Ed to the TV. Phoenix knew that Maya had grown fond of Edward. It was almost like she had crush on him. It was kind of cute.

_

* * *

Watch the exciting conclusion next week of Pink Princess episode sixty-seven: The Curse of the Blue Rose part three. See you next time!_

"Are you going to come over next week to watch it with me?" asked Maya.

"I'm busy next week." replied Edward. "I don't believe that I'll be able to make it."

"Oh, okay." she pouted, jutting out her bottom lip. Phoenix knew that look. The water works were about to start. He was probably the only one that could keep up with Maya's mood swings.

"Maya, if he can't make it for the show next week, then you can bring the TV to him," compromised Phoenix. Her eyes turned bright again and she looked expectantly at Ed.

"Can I?" she asked brightly, and he smiled back.

"Sure," said Ed with a small grimace. "I got off early today, so you can bring it to my workplace next week."

"Thank you so much, Edo!" she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed the living daylights out of him.

"Maya, he needs to breathe!" exclaimed Phoenix.

"Oops," she let go of Ed. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, now. I believe we have an appointment," he said turning to Phoenix.

"Right, have a seat." he said, indicating the chair in front of the desk as Edward sat in it. Wright pulled out a drawer from the metal filing cabinet's labeled _D-F_, and retrieved a folder with _Elric, Edward _written on the tab. He opened it up to a two page document and quickly scanned it.

"Everything appears to be in order," he stated as he switched to official mode. "Have you forgotten any items?"

"No," answered Edward.

"Would you like to change the benefactor of any items that are listed here?"

"No."

"Would you like to change your final statement?"

"No."

"Is there anything that you would like to add, take away, or change in this document before you sign it?" Ed paused for a second to think.

"Yes. There is something that I want to add," said Ed slowly. He reached into his coat and pulled out a book with a red symbol on its front cover. "I would like to add this."

"Who would you like to be benefactor of that?"

"Colonel Roy Mustang, my superior officer."

"Very well, write that in please." Phoenix flipped the document over and pushed the second page towards the blonde, who wrote: _To Roy Mustang I leave my Alchemic Notebook with the Flammel symbol on the front cover. Since you are the only other alchemist on the team, have fun with it._ Ed placed the pen back on the table.

"Anything else you can think of?" asked Wright.

"No, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure."

"Please sign on the line." Edward signed his name, and Phoenix signed his on the witness line. "May I ask why?" he asked as Ed stood.

"I'm running around the country with the military. There are people out there who don't like me at all because of that," replied Ed. "Anything could happen. I just want to make sure everything's taken care of. Good-bye, Maya, Phoenix."

"Bye Edo. See you next week." she chirped happily.

"See you, Edward. Take care." said Phoenix, and Ed left as he sighed.

"What's wrong, Nick?" asked Maya.

"He's a good guy. I just hope nothing happens to him because of his job," he answered and she nodded in agreement. He closed the folder and put Edward's will back into the cabinet.

* * *

Haha! Have some Phoenix Wright! I love that game! You will be seeing more of these two in later chapters because I love writing Maya! Anyway, I would like to thank Daisuke1989, GreedxEd, mrawgirl09, klnolan, and PuRE'Curse (did I spell them right?) for reviewing and those who added me to their story alerts. I feel special and loved. -stares off dreamingly- So please review if you want more Deus Ex Machina. I hate to keep posting a story that no one wants to read.


	3. In the End

Did everything just taste purple?

Joking aside...

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or its characters. This story is a parody of that show. I also don't own any of the songs that are used in this chapter. Which are: The Meaning of Life- Disturbed, Toccata in Fugue in D minor (BWV 565) J.S. Bach, and Mad World- Gary Jules (cover of _Mad World_ by Tears for Fears)

Rating: M for mature content

Warnings: swearing, angst, and suicidal thoughts/attempts.

Spoiler: Darth Vader is Luke's father.

Now have fun see you later!

* * *

Chapter 3

In the End

"Suicide is not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds resources for coping with pain."—Unknown

A bird twittered happily on the windowsill. The sun was shining, the wind was blowing a gentle breeze, the air was nippy, and the few wisps of clouds sailed slowly across the sky. How could the bird not be happy? It was a gorgeous day. It was one of those days where a bird could not help but take to the skies. Soon the green little bird would find a mate, build a nest, lay the eggs, and then take care of the little ones when they hatched. Indeed it was a glorious day. The bird was harshly jerked out of its musings when the window suddenly burst open. It quickly took flight before the window touched it. It chirped angrily at the rude human and flew off into the bright blue sea above.

A head with sun kissed hair poked out of the window, ignoring the annoyed bird. Edward took in the scenery. He smiled. He felt, he dare say, happy, almost giddy. He turned from the window and went to his radio that was perched on a table next to his bed. He sifted through his music, selected a cassette tape, placed it in the tray, and hit _play._ Drums began to beat rhythmically like a heartbeat. He turned it up right when the singer screamed "Roar", and the music became chaotic. He bounced on the balls of his feet for a few seconds before he went to the kitchen. He started to sing with the hard rock.

"_I want to get psycho! Run you little bitch. I want your power flowing_― where's my bread?" he said to himself. He searched for the loaf and found it hiding behind the orange juice in the fridge. His voice rose in volume with the singer's as he continued to sing the song whilst he made breakfast with a smile on his face. He decided to make a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. The song played in the background as he busied himself around the kitchen. Once he was finished he quickly cleaned up the mess that he made, and sat down at the table to enjoy his meal.

_Mmmm….bacon…_ he thought as he bit into one. _How can anyone hate bacon?_ _It is one of the greatest foods ever invented._ The only people that he thought had a problem with it would be vegetarians, vegans, and those whose religion opposed it. However, that was not going to stop him from enjoying his bacon. His radio played background music for him to eat by. Once he was finished, he cleared the table, and washed and dried his dishes. He looked at his wall clock in the living room. It told him that it was 12:29. He was supposed to be at work at eight, but he did not care. Today was the day. On this day, six years ago, everything started.

_And now everything will end today, won't it Edward?_ Ed froze. What did his guilt want now? He heard it chuckle as it knew what he was thinking and it continued on. _Yes it will all end today. Now all that you did won't matter anymore. You will just become a memory. How did that saying go?_

"Memories are nice, but that's all they are," whispered Ed. He knew that phrase all too well. "Just memories."

_That's right,_ said the monster. _Even then, memories will fade and be forgotten. When that happens, you will—_

"Die a second time," finished Edward. He really hated his dark side.

_Now, now my dear Ed. Hate is such a strong word. I'm just doing my job as your guilty conscience,_ it said. It always knew what he was thinking. It was really annoying. He heard it chuckle again. _To a more pressing matter. How shall we spend your final day of life?_ Silence. _Come on, you have to have something planned. Partying, getting a hooker, blowing up a building? Anything?!_

"Why would I blow up a building?"

The voice turned velvety, almost seductive,_ You know you want to. I can hear it inside your head. I know how much you like it. Besides you'll be going out with a bang, quite literally._

"No, and why would I pay some disease ridden slut to have sex with me?" He did not understand why he was indulging his guilt.

_Because it's sex!_ _And have you looked in a mirror recently? What girl would be willing to have sex with you in the sorry state that you're in?_ Edward winced at that truthful statement. It suddenly reminded him of Winry and Mustang. _You said it yourself; he was only speaking the truth. Winry is proof of that._

"Don't you dare!" hissed Ed.

_Awww, how cute,_ it purred at him._ Defending the girl that captured your heart, even though she doesn't want to be anywhere near you. It's so adorable that you think that she would one day return your affection. Even when she had already given it to someone who is of your own flesh and blood. You knew for eleven years that she had her eye on Alphonse._

"I know that! It's just…" he trailed off. He stormed to the bathroom in rage, grabbed the edge of the sink in a tight grip, and growled out to his reflection: "I do not need to explain myself to you!" He glared daggers as his reflection smiled its sadistic predatory smile.

_Apparently, you tried, _it said lazily as it checked its nails for any dirt that had gotten underneath them. The smile was still on its face. That smile never left its features. It was almost like it was frozen in place and remained untouched by time or circumstance. The reflection continued on, _But don't worry, you don't need to. I already knew what you were going to say._ It slowly slid its eyes up from its task to his. It locked him in place.

"What was I going to say?" He folded his arms across his chest in a defiant manner. On the outside he was fine, but on the inside he was slightly worried that his guilt would voice exactly what he was thinking.

_Don't be so nervous._ Its voice turned back into irresistible chocolate, so that he could not help but hang to its every word. It liked to cheat like that. The voice made him want to cave in, but he was stronger than that._ It's not like I'm going to bite, hard. Then again you might like it. Everything is fine. After all, I am your friend._ Ed could not help but laugh at that.

"You? My friend?" He laughed a bit harder with a bitter edge mixed in. "That was a good one. I'm going to have to remember that one." His reflection was not angry or even annoyed. It just stood there, watching him have his fun with an amused look on his face. When that smile turned into its infamous face splitting grin, he sobered up quickly. That look made the bottom of his stomach drop to the floor. His reflection neatly folded its hand in front over its abdomen.

_You seemed to have forgotten that it is indeed true. I'm the only friend that you've got._

"A real friend wouldn't let their friend do this to themselves." He held up his arm to show the self-inflicted scars. "They also wouldn't condone it either."

_First off, I didn't tell you to start doing that. You did it yourself. Secondly,_ the grin grew wider, _I know for a fact that you enjoy it. You love hurting yourself just to feel the pain that you get turned on by. You're quite the masochist, my love._

Edward's mind did a double take and his face became white as paper. When did this happen? When did he enjoy pain? He remembered that it felt good whenever he cut himself, but not enough to get hard by it. It did not make sense in is mind. He became confused, and his brain felt like it short circuited. The dots were not connecting, and one plus one did not equal two. These thoughts flashed by in a record time of one second before humiliation sank in.

"What?!" Ed half yelled. "I don't– You– I'm not a masochist!" He felt his face become hot with embarrassment. His guilt leaned out of the mirror, and gently placed a finger on his pale lips. A cat like smile graced its face. There was a gleam in its golden eyes.

_Shhh…It's okay. You don't need to be ashamed of it. That's just who you are. There is no need to be shy and hide it from me. I will always accept you no matter what._ The tender hand dropped from his face to the sink, and crawled out of the mirror. It placed its feet on the ground as it stretched with a cracking sound coming from the joints.

"How did you do that?"

_Haven't you figured it out yet?_ The figment rolled its eyes in exasperation but still held its amused expression. _I'm everything and anything you want me to be. You've just now allowed me to take form on your reality, so now there are more things that I can do. Things like touch, 3D movement, and the ability to appear right in front of you. For a prodigy you are pretty dumb._ It pulled out the hair band and shook out the braid. The golden hair came out in waves.

"I'm not dumb, and I'm not into masochism."

_Oh, really?_

"Yeah, really." His glare was defiant compared to the gleeful gaze he got back.

_Let me show you what you looked like yesterday._ The left arm started to bleed like warmed up syrup. It raised the limb to its lips and started licking up the blood. It started at its hand and slowly worked its way up to its arm with its eyes half lidded in pleasure. The mouth found a wound. It drank with enthusiasm. A moan was drawn from the pseudo-Ed's throat that only grew louder as it sucked harder. It released that one and moved on to the next one, and the next one after that until it was satisfied. The head rolled back, then to its side with closed eyelids. They glided open to stare at him with lust misted eyes. The phantom held a hand out, palm up. A finger extended that curled in a seductive beckoning motion. Its lips were a ruby red and pulled back in a coy smile.

Edward watched as his guilt put on a show for him. His head was cocked to the side, but his face did not hold disgust or revulsion but curiosity. When the finger curled, his mind went blank and his body turned boneless. He did not understand what was happening to him. With one simple motion he was rendered powerless. But nonetheless, he was caught like a fly to honey, and he inched closer.

_Would you like some, my dear Edward?_ it cooed softly to him. He chewed on his bottom lip. A minute slender stream flowed down. He did not respond at first, but then jerked the arm up to his level. Ed hovered an inch over the bleeding cut. He could feel eyes on him, and knew that his guilt was watching intently and waiting patiently. He leaned in even more. Logic and sensibility had abandoned him long ago as he gave in to his instincts. Desire blossomed within him, filling his head with a fuzzy cloud of confusion. His mouth was barely touching the tanned skin, and his lips were lightly brushing the surface. Rationality rushed back at him in a great flood. He swiftly dropped the limb and jumped away.

_I almost had you._ A hefty grin decorated its face.

"You sick fuck!" screeched Ed. He could not believe that he had given into temptation.

_That just proves my point. You're a masochist,_ it said in a sing-song voice.

"It proves that I'm a sadistic bastard!"

_How many times do I have to tell you? I am you. So I know every little thing there is about you. I know that you like this. You like the pain that you inflict on your person. You love the blood that comes pouring out, you little vampire. Just accept it. At the end of the day it won't matter anymore._

The alchemist tried to find a flaw in the argument. No matter how he dissected it, he couldn't find anything to contradict. Finally, he sighed in defeat. He pinched his nose bridge as the apparition clapped its hands in triumph. It did have a point, well several points, but it was right. It did not matter anymore. There was, however, one question that was burning in the back of his mind.

"Did I really moan like that?" he asked.

_Yes_.

"Oh, God." he groaned as he sat on the lip of his bathtub.

_I thought you didn't believe in one._

"Shut up. You know what? I'm not going to argue with you anymore. It's too tiring."

_Just look at the brightside,_ It got a fierce look from Edward, but continued on. _At least you weren't overheard by anyone and no one was watching you. But back to our previous conversation before it sidetracked to this. _It had glint in its eye. _You were hoping that Winry would come to her senses and come back to you. However, look how long and how strong their relationship is._ A mischievous smile found its way on the face. _How do you think she was going to be with you, knowing what happened ten months ago? How could she? Your brother told her, remember?_ Ed slipped his hands over his ears. He hunched over and tried to curl up into a ball.

"I don't want to hear this. Leave me alone," he whimpered, his eyes burning. Images of that incident flooded his mind. Things that did not deserve to be called memories. How many times did he wish that the memory was just a dream? A horrible dream that he could wake up from? How many times did he wish that he could just forget it all?

It was too clear. He could block the images easily. That was not what he was worried about. It was something else entirely that he could not erase. The one thing the he could not get out of his head, that he so desperately wanted to forget, was the screams. Those bloodcurdling shrieks of agony and fear. Even though they were muffled by five feet of concrete and steel, he could hear them as if they were screaming in his ear. Then silence. They would never scream ever again. No one would ever hear their voices, but he heard them during every dream that should be called a nightmare. He could hear them loud and clear. He pressed harder, but that would not block them out, no matter how hard he tried. This was his payment. This was his punishment. His hands were ripped from his ears.

_Was it fair to them?_ it asked him, taking advantage of his weakened state. He could feel that his cheeks were wet. _You believe in equivalent exchange, right? Then tell me, what did they get that was equal? What did they get in return? I'll tell you. Nothing. They got nothing, Edward,_ _while you gained everything. _He flinched away from the sudden hostility in its voice. _When your brother found out how long did you really think it would take for the rest to know? How much did you honestly think your bond could withstand?_

"But the team doesn't know. They don't know anything!" bargained Ed.

_Yet… In time they will. Either you or Alphonse will tell them. Then what do you think will happen?_ He did not want to think about it. He knew exactly what would happen. However, the monster needed not be told._ Exactly… They would do the same thing. You will be saving yourself a lot of grief if you go through it today._ It relinquished its grip on his arms with a smile on its face. Ed furiously scrubbed his face with his hands to erase all traces of his tears. _I do have a question._ He blinked in surprised.

"I thought you knew everything about me."

_Only the things that you regret. I was wondering, why today? Out of all of the days in the year, why did you pick this day? What's so special about today?_

"Do you know today's date?"

_It's the third of October. Oh…_ its smile grew bigger and Ed smiled with it.

"Poetic justice, don't you think?"

_Yes, it is._

At that moment the phone rang with a high pitched bell, alerting its owner that someone wanted to talk to him. He jumped upon hearing the sound. He blinked at his reflection and let his now sore fingers let go of the sink rim. His radio was silent because it finished playing his tape. He went to the living room. His clock informed him that it was close to 1:30.

_Time flies,_ thought the boy bitterly as he lifted his phone from its cradle and placed it against his ear.

"Hello?" he asked as he sank onto the fabric couch.

"Edward, why are you not at work?" responded a slightly annoyed female voice that he recognized quicker than an instant.

"Well, I'm taking a sick day," he answered Hawkeye. He forgot to come up with an excuse the previous night, but he had several things on his mind.

"Sick? You couldn't have thought up a better one?"

"It's true. I have pneumonia and strep." He threw in a fake cough. "You would want to steer clear from here. I'm contagious." He did not even bother keeping his tone in check. He found the woman irritating sometimes for a reason that he could not even explain.

"I think I'll take my chances," she said smoothly.

"You better not. I'm warning you. You might catch it and die."

"Sure I would. Now get down here. You have work you need to do."

"Not today, Hawkeye. I'm busy." His fingers played with the phone cord.

"Well, it can wait until later. Please, come in, and don't make me use force on you."

"I'm not coming in today, no matter how much you threaten me," he replied coldly. There was stillness on the other line.

"Ed is this because of," her voice dropped to a whisper, "what the Colonel said yesterday?"

_Who would want you…?_

His hand tightened around the phone's handle.

_A bitchy, short-tempered, little orphan…_

A strangled gasp flew from his mouth that he tried to hold down. Those words resounded just as loud as the screams. He could hear them again, mingling with those harsh but truthful words. His mind turned chaotic with sound. Only Riza's voice managed to pull him out and silence everything, but only temporary.

"Edward, what did he do yesterday?" she asked in a soft quiet voice. Unfathomable anger gushed in as he gave the evil eye to a coffee table that did not even deserve it.

"Why don't you ask him!" he screamed into the receiver.

"I'm coming by to check up on you," she said in a tone that should have had left no room for argument.

"Don't bother. I already made plans for today," he replied bitterly, and then he added in a kinder tone, "Good-bye, Riza Hawkeye." Then he promptly hung up. He tucked his knees under his chin, and wrapped his arms around them. Once in this position, he let the flood gates open. He let his agony take him. His sobs racked his body with tremors; his tears soaked his black jeans; his pain clenched his throbbing heart; his head was filled with chaos as the screams grew louder. He let it all take him and bring him down as his body tried to relieve its stress. His misery faded away, and he uncurled himself. His throat was sore. His eyes were dry. He rose from the couch, and made his way to the bedroom. His feet dragged on the carpet floor.

Edward made his way to the radio. He flipped open the tape tray, replaced the current tape with another one, snapped it shut, and hit _play_. A slow song filled the room with its steady melody. It was a forceful classical piece that was played by an organ. This song went by the name of "Toccata and Fugue in D minor". Ed stared out of the window at the clouds that hung in a sky so blue. His mind began to drift to the past as the powerful music played on and became background noise.

He was on Yock Island again.

"_Remember when we talked about what would happen if we died here?"_

"_Uh-huh, and I said everyone would be sad."_

"_Yeah, but that's self-centered way looking at things. From a universal perspective, whether we live or die doesn't matter. The world will keep going as if nothing happened."_

"_We're just a small, insignificant part of the world aren't we?"_

"_Don't call me small!!"_

"_Ouch!"_

"_Anyway, once our lives are over, all that remains is our physical bodies."_

"_Water, Carbon, Ammonia, Lime, Phosphorous, Sodium, Potassium, Sulfur, Magnesium, and, Aluminum…right?"_

"_That's right. Our bodies are nothing but a composite of those and a few other basic elements. Our fate is to be decomposed by bacteria and become nutrients for the plants. And the plants become food for the herbivores, and the herbivores become food for the carnivores. The cycle goes on and on, even when we weren't aware of it. Life is a complex cycle, so vast that we can't see it with our own eyes. Maybe it's the 'world', maybe it's the 'universe'…but whatever it's called, you and I are only a part of that flow. One part of the whole. But all those individual parts come together so that the whole can exist. And the cycle keeps flowing because all of nature follows this fundamental law. Understanding that flow, deconstructing and then reconstructing. That's the meaning of alchemy."_

"And of life," whispered Ed. Why did his mind revert back to that one moment in his life? Out of all of the other memories that he held in his mind, why did he think of that one? Was he trying to quilt trip himself, or was he trying to rationalize what will happen to him? No, those were not the reasons. The real reason was that he was trying to revert back to a time when he was carefree, and did not have to worry about the future at all. It was a time when he was truly happy, even though he lived in a forest with only a knife to help him survive. He had his brother, and that was all that mattered those thirty days. He was trying to bring comfort to his aching heart, and he clung to that reason and that memory. That was all he would think about until the end.

The song died and a new one began. This time, a soft piano melody poured out of the radio's speakers. A man started to sing, and Ed sang with him.

"_All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out faces. Bright and early for the daily races. Going nowhere, going nowhere. Hang my head; I want to drown my sorrow. No tomorrow, no tomorrow."_ He reached into the bedside table that had the radio on it, and pulled out his journal. It was black, and bound in black leather. On the hard front cover was the Flammel. His gaze traveled along the serpent that wound its way on a cross.

He had immediately become fond of the symbol when he saw it tattooed to his teacher's chest. When he was being trained under her, he tried to be discreet about his stares at the tattoo. Until one day, he was caught. She thought he was looking at her breasts. It took two frying pans to the head, a knife right between the legs (that was dangerously close to a certain part of his anatomy that he was rather attached to), running, and five minutes of yelling for his teacher to calm down. When he explained about his fondness of the emblem, she just gave him a smile and an apology for jumping to conclusions. She then went into detail about its meaning. The Flammel dated back almost 400 years ago, and to this day still held it original meaning. The serpent represented a volatile element, usually mercury, and the cross was purity. Putting them together meant the purification of a violent element. He asked her if he could use the symbol as well. She just nodded and said yes. Then she decided to give him and Alphonse, who had been watching the whole event, the dreaded Talk. Sad smile pulled at his lips as he clung to that memory as well. He would never get to see his teacher, Izumi Curtis, smile ever again. Her illness was too much for her body to handle. Early this year, she died.

"_I find it kind of funny. I find it kind of sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best that I ever had._" He laughed a bit this. He never had a dream in about eight years, not since he failed in the transmutation to resurrect his beloved deceased mother, Trisha Elric, when he was ten. From then on, he had nothing but night terrors or dreamless sleeps.

He flipped open the book to a clean cream colored page. He then pulled out a razorblade from his pocket watch and stuck his finger with one of its corners. Blood beaded out from the hole. He placed the finger on the page and wrote: _This is no one's fault but my own. I deserved this. Please forgive me, and please don't cry over me. I'm already dead. Good-bye._

He blew on the page to dry up the blood. He left it open on his lap to let it air dry some more as he reached in the drawer a second time. His fingers brushed against something hard and cold. He curled his hand around it, and pulled it out. His fingers drifted and played across the barrel of a shiny revolver. He placed it down on the bed next to him and closed his journal. He propped it up against the radio on the little table.

He started to hum the song as he pondered on how he should proceed. He picked up the gun again, his eyes looking it up and down. He knew that he did not want to be able to walk away from this, so it would be in the head. But where? He had heard stories of people being shot between the eyes and survived because the bullet went between the two hemispheres of the brain. No, that would not do. He definitely did not want to linger a second longer than he had to in this world. The temple. The temple would work, because if someone was hit there with enough force they would instantly die. A slug at point blank range would be more than enough. The bullet to would shatter the fragile bone and go out through the other side, taking some of his brain with it. It would only take one shot to end his life.

He hit _stop_ on his radio. Silence filled his room. There was no sound. There were no bugs buzzing, no birds chirping, no people talking, and no sounds of tires crunching the gravel below or the rev of engines. Total silence.

He stared blankly out of the window as he lifted the revolver. The teen's golden painted eyes drifted down the silver weapon. He slid the chamber out, loaded a single bullet, and pushed it back in place. He pulled the hammer back, and placed the end of the barrel against his left temple, with a finger curled around the trigger. No one was going to save him.

"Forgive me everyone." he whispered as he closed his eyes.

"Please, Edward, don't pull that trigger."

* * *

Do you like? If you do please tell me. If you don't I would think that no ones like it, and will stop. So please review. I love y'all and I hope to hear from you!

* * *


	4. Best Laid Schemes

-Pokes head out of door and sees an angry mob of readers- They've grown since last time. -starts crying- I'm going to die. I know it...T.T -gets a bright idea. Takes out the next chapter and throws it outside- that will distract them! -the crowd chases after the new chapter and I make my escape- 23 SKADO!!! -runs for my life-

I'm sorry that I didn't update soon, but I had to wait for the revisions, and I was reading _Breaking Dawn_. Woot! I love that book, but it's too bad that it is the last one of the Twilight Saga. LoL I loved it and I can't wait for the Twilight movie to come out in December. I love Edward! -starts having a fangirl moment-

Disclaimer: If I had owned the series I wouldn't be writing this now would I?

Warnings: language, a little blood, violence, and suicide attempt.

Rating is M for Mature

You have been warned. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!

* * *

Chapter 4

Best Laid Schemes

"The best laid schemes of mice and men/ Go often askew."—Robert Burns "To a Mouse"

* * *

Roy Mustang awoke to the sound of his alarm clock blaring at him. His fist crashed down onto the snooze button, which was one of the greatest inventions ever made by man in his opinion. He rolled over on his side and curled up, pulling the blanket up to his chin. All last night he had been trying to think of something to say to Edward when he got into the office this morning. He had been practicing too. The whole experience yesterday left a horrible taste into his mouth. He knew that he had to make it right.

Ten minutes later his alarm clock beeped again. This time he reached over and reset the clock for twenty minutes later. He curled up and fell right back into sleep. Then the alarm clock woke him up, and he grudgingly pulled himself out from the comfy blankets. His feet shuffled on blue and black speckled carpet to the stairs and down to the hardwood floor of his kitchen. He flipped on the light switch, and had to slap a hand over his ebony eyes until they adjusted. Roy went about to make his breakfast, which was just a bowl of cereal.

He read the bright and cheerful cereal box while he ate, and cleaned up afterward. Dragging his feet back up the stairs to the master bathroom that was connected to his bedroom, he did his daily ritual of preparing himself for the day. In the middle of rinsing out the minty toothpaste from his mouth, his doorbell rang. He quickly spat out the water, and went to open the door. He already knew who it was, and was fully aware that he was wearing only his pajama pants.

"Punctual as ever, Lieutenant," he said to the blonde woman on his doorstep. He was little bit surprised to see a tint of red on her face. Riza raised a hand to give him a crisp salute.

"Sir!" she barked at him.

"At ease. You can come in to wait," he stated politely and stood aside.

"Very well." She strode through the foyer, and into the living room that had the same blue and black speckle carpet that ran through much of the house. Roy closed the door behind her and went back up the stairs.

_As formal as ever too,_ he thought to himself.

"Make yourself at home," Roy called back. He swiftly stepped into his uniform, and his fingers made quick work of the buttons. He went back down into the living room, and Riza rose from her spot on the couch.

"Are you ready sir?" He nodded as he grabbed his long black coat from the hall closet. He locked the door to his house as they left, and followed his right hand woman to the car.

During the car ride Hawkeye managed to control her heart better. When Roy had opened the door to his house, her heart went haywire and sputtered as she took in the sight of her Colonel's well toned chest. She had gotten all flustered, but quickly got a hold of herself in the knick of time. A faint smile ghosted her lips as she peered in her rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of Roy. He had a pensive look and was watching the scenery pass by. She had a pretty good hunch what he was thinking about and left him alone.

When they pulled up to Central Headquarters she turned off the engine and softly said, "Sir, we are here. I'll send for Fullmetal whenever you are ready."

"Thank you," he said, and they exited the car. Once in the office they easily fell into the routine. Riza would get the paperwork and Roy would sign them. He was staring down at the same sheet of paper, reading the exact same sentence over and over again, when he decided that he could not put off the inevitable any longer.

"Hawkeye, can you send for Fullmetal?" he asked.

"Yes sir." She turned to Havoc, whose desk was next to hers, and found him asleep with a toothpick hanging out of his mouth. "Havoc!" She hit the poor blond man on the back of the head.

"Ow! Why did you do that? I was having a nice dream." His sentenced trailed off into a grumble.

"I need you to get Fullmetal from the library. Now, if you don't mind," she said as she turned back to her own work.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll go and get the chief." He continued to grumble as he left. Furery was snickering at his own desk. Some tense minutes, tense for Mustang that is, passed before Havoc returned empty handed.

"Where's Edward? Wasn't he at the library?" asked Hawkeye. Havoc rubbed the back of his neck with a frown on his face.

"That's the thing," he started. "I asked the librarian, Susie, at the front desk, and she said that she hasn't seen him all day. She told me that he is always the first one in the library."

"Did he sneak past her?" asked Breda from his desk next to Falman.

"He would have to break a window," replied Havoc, his frown deepened. "The front desk is right in front of the door. You can't get past it without being seen."

"Are you sure?" asked Hawkeye. "Did you search the library?" Havoc nodded the affirmative.

"Yeah, I did. I searched high and low for the kid. I checked the study rooms, the lobby, the back, the reference section, and the top of the bookshelves." Everyone raised an eyebrow at this and Havoc shrugged. "I sometimes find him on top of bookshelves. He climbs up there from the ladder when he really wants to be left alone." There was a collective "ah" of understanding from the group.

"Wait, he climbs on bookshelves?" asked Breda.

"You can ask Susie, she's seen him do it before."

"Hawkeye, call Fullmetal's house to see if he's still there." said Mustang as he stood. "The rest of you search the building and his usual spots, ask around." Everyone jumped to their feet and hurried to carry out the order, but Havoc stayed behind with perturbed expression. "Something the matter, Second Lieutenant?" The blond man dropped his gaze to the floor, and constantly shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The toothpick in his mouth rolled along his tongue.

"It's probably nothing, but I didn't want to bring it up in front of the others," said Havoc, and he rubbed the back of his neck again. Roy and Riza exchanged looks with each other.

"Continue," prompted the Colonel. Havoc shifted some more before he approached his superior's desk.

"Like I said before, it's probably nothing, but when I was searching the library I went into the restroom to see if he was there. He wasn't, but I found something." From his pocket, he pulled out a bloodstained rag. Roy held out his hand and he willingly passed it over. Mustang turned the cloth over in his hands.

"Where did you find this?" asked Hawkeye, who was suddenly at his side

"In the garbage can. I think it's the chief's, or someone else's. I don't know," said Havoc with a shrug. "I thought it was something important, so I took it with me."

"Your intuition might be right," muttered Mustang. "You're dismissed, Havoc. Search for Fullmetal with the others." Havoc saluted and left. The door's click signaled his departure.

"Do you think that it could be Edward's?" she asked as she held it up.

"I don't know. I think Havoc might be right," said the dark haired man as he looked out of his window. "I believe…" His sentence faded as he began to chew his bottom lip. This whole situation was not sitting right with him. "Call his house. I bet he's there right now."

"What do you want me to do with this, sir?" She shook the rag.

"I'll hold onto it for now, just in case." He took the rag and stuffed it in his pocket. Riza went to one of the filing cabinets and pulled out a folder. She scanned the first page inside, picked up the phone, and dialed the number written.

The phone rang a few times before, "Hello?"

"Edward, why are you not at work?" she asked. She was slightly ticked now. Everyone was searching for someone who was not even here. What annoyed her even more was that he did not have the courtesy to call in.

"Well, I'm taking a sick day," was the response. Mustang was watching her.

"Sick? You couldn't have thought up a better one?"

"It's true. I have pneumonia and strep." There was a fake cough on the other side of the line. "You would want to steer clear from here. I'm contagious." There was tone in his voice that she did not appreciate. Despite this, she attempted to keep her tone pleasant so she could coax the boy in coming in for work.

"I think I'll take my chances," she said smoothly.

"You better not. I'm warning you. You might catch it and die."

_What a horrible excuse,_ she thought to herself._ Even Roy could come up with a better one, and that's saying something._

"Sure I would. Now get down here. You have work you need to do." She did not want to use threats unless she has to. Roy really needed to talk to him, and she hated to see Roy beat himself up about this. He probably added it to the list of reasons for him to drink.

"Not today, Hawkeye. I'm busy."

_Threats it is,_ thought Riza.

"Well, it can wait until later. Please, come in, and don't make me use force on you."

"I'm not coming in today, no matter how much you threaten me," Edward responded coldly. She paused for second as she put two and two together.

"Ed is this because of," she looked up and saw Roy was watching her intently. She dropped her voice and covered up the receiver with her hand. "What the Colonel said yesterday?" There was a silence on the other end until she heard something that sound like a sob.

_Is he crying?_ The thought horrified her. She felt the urge to comfort him like a mother.

"Edward, what did he do yesterday?" she asked in a soft quiet voice. Moments later she had to jerk the phone away from her ear.

"Why don't you ask him!" she heard him scream.

"I'm coming by to check up on you," she said, not bothering to keep her voice down.

"Don't bother, I already made plans for today." She could hear the bitterness and was surprised when he kindly added, "Good-bye, Riza Hawkeye." The line went dead after that. She placed the phone back down and stared at it. When she looked up she saw only the Colonel's back as he stared out of the window again. She drummed her fingers on her desk and went to his side.

"Roy, what happened?" He looked at her for a second and tuned his attention back to the scenery outside of his window. "Roy…" she growled out. He sighed and started to speak.

"I said something horrible yesterday," he stated plainly, his eyes never leaving the outside world. "Something that should have never been said." She patiently waited. "We were arguing like we usually do."

"So I've heard," she said in a somewhat teasing tone to light his mood. He gave her a half-hearted smile.

"But this one was different. I started to get angry. Then, I… I, uh…" His tongue became tied. He bluntly told the truth. "I broke the agreement." Riza's eyes flew open in horror, and her jaw dropped.

"You broke the agreement?" she almost shrieked in anger. The agreement was a silent unspoken rule that until Ed and Al were eighteen, they were never, ever, under any circumstance, to be referred to as orphans, no matter how true it was. It was something that Edward and Alphonse never knew about. The only reason they did this was because the boys were young and did not fully understand that they were indeed orphans and homeless. The team believed that if anyone were to mention that, the boys would be crushed. It was more for their safety and mental wellbeing than anything else. Another thing that they did not know about was that when Ed joined the military Mustang signed on as his and Al's legal guardian, which was also part of the agreement. Any trouble that they got in, Roy was the one who took the punishment. If anyone broke this fundamental rule, they had to face the consequences. No one was above this unwritten law.

Roy watched Riza gulp air like a fish. If the situation was not so serious he would have laughed. He could almost see a blood vessel throbbing in her forehead.

"It gets worse," he said after she got her bearings. She stiffly nodded for him to continue. "I called him a bitchy orphan." He watched her hand twitch towards the gun that was strapped to her side. "I told him that nobody wants him."

There was a loud bang as a bullet grazed the side of his cheek. Saying she was pissed off was putting it very mildly. She was livid. All she saw was red.

"Roy Mustang, you are going to go to Edward Elric and apologize for what you did." Her eyes were narrowed, her body trembled with rage, and her voice was a deadly hiss. "I don't care if you have to lick dog shit off his boots to make him forgive you. After that I will tell everyone what you did, including Armstrong, and you will face your punishment for this. Do you understand me?" Inside, Roy was shitting bricks as he nodded. "Good." She put her gun back in its holster. He decided to steer her away from this dangerous subject.

"What excuse did he give you?" he casually asked. If looks could kill, he would have died a hundred times before he even hit the floor. Her eye was twitching as she tried to quell her burning anger.

"He said he was sick," she said in a tight voice.

"With what?"

"Pneumonia and strep. When I told him that I would come over to check on him, he snapped at me and told me he had plans for today."

"How can you have plans and be sick?" All traces of anger washed away to be replaced by a pensive look.

"You should have heard how he said good-bye to me. It sounded like he was saying good-bye for the last time." The pale man stiffened.

"He did that to me too, yesterday."

Fullmetal's behavioral change, the loss weight, the lack of sleep, the need to hide everything. They were pieces. All pieces to one big puzzle. The problem was that they were not fitting together properly in his head.

"Where's the box with the picture on it," he muttered to himself.

"What box, sir?" she asked but he did not answer.

He needed more pieces. If he threw in the need to say good-bye and assumed that the bloody rag was Edward's then— The puzzle was complete. The picture that was made was a tombstone.

"Oh God," he whispered. He ripped his coat from the back of his chair, and almost ran out of the room. He strode quickly down the halls, and was practically pushing people out of his way with Hawkeye hot on his heels. When they got to the parking lot, she grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"What's wrong?" she asked with a sliver of panic in her voice.

"I think Edward's going to kill himself," he said quickly. He turned around again and was about to dash through the parking lot to the dorms when he heard her voice call out to him.

"He doesn't live there anymore." He whipped around again. "He moved to an apartment complex a few months ago."

"What?! Where?"

"It's not far from here. Get in." She was already in the car, turning it on, when he opened the door. He did not have time to put on his seat belt when the car was thrown into reverse and sped away.

Even in a hurry, Riza Hawkeye was the best driver that Roy had ever known. She wove in and out of traffic effortlessly without causing anyone to slam on their brakes. They were a block away within a few short minutes. The car came to a screeching halt in front of the complex. Roy reached into the glove box to retrieve an extra pair of his Reactive Cloth gloves. Riza was about to shut off the car when his hand grabbed hers.

"Leave it on and stay here. We might need it," he said. She understood completely. Something might go wrong.

"He's on the fourth floor, number 416."

"Understood." He quickly entered the building and jabbed his thumb on the _up_ button to call for an elevator. A little light turned on that told him that the closest elevator was up on the ninth floor He impatiently hit the abused button rapidly in an attempt to make it go faster. A few seconds later he gave up and headed for the stairs. Taking three at a time, thanks to his long legs, he was on the fourth floor. He ran down the hall counting the doors.

_Thirteen,_ thought Mustang as he counted down the numbers in his head. _Fourteen, fifteen, nineteen. NINETEEN?! How did I end up at nineteen?_

He doubled back, found seventeen, and right next door was apartment number 416. He pounded his fist on the door while trying to catch his breath. No one came. He tried turning the handle but it was locked.

"Fullmetal, open this door right now!" he called as his fist pounded on the wood. Still the door would not open. He pulled out his special gloves and was about to put them on when a thought occurred to him. He needed to hide them in plain sight if was going to confront Ed. He turned them inside out and put them on.

_This door has a deadbolt,_ he thought quickly._ So the lock is not in the doorknob but above it._ He snapped his fingers and melted the metal security device.

He turned the knob, and slowly opened the door. He poked his head in, and saw both the living room and the kitchen. Caution was to be taken now. He did not know what condition the boy could be in right now, and did not want to startle him. He slowly closed the door behind him, and inched around the room. There was no sign of Edward, so he tried the next room. The sight he saw made his heart stop.

He found Edward all right, found him sitting on his bed with a gun pointed at his head. Roy saw a finger curling around the trigger.

"Please, Edward, don't pull that trigger," he pleaded. Ed jumped and spun around to face him.

"H-h-how did you know where I live?" stuttered Ed.

"Put down the gun, Edward. Let's talk about this," said Mustang. He slowly edged into the room. He kept in mind not to make any sudden movements that could scare the lad. Edward edged away, and pointed the gun at him.

"Just walk away, Mustang," his voice was strained. Roy silently cursed to himself. He had unwittingly backed the boy up into a metaphorical corner, and was panicking now. A panicked suicidal person could lead to an accident. He had to calm Ed down before anyone got shot.

"Put it down, Edward," said Roy calmly, his eyes on the shaking weapon.

"Put your hands up. I want to see if you have your gloves on. Now!" Roy did what he was told. He held them up and twisted his wrists, praying that the teen could not see the faint red lines of the circle. Ed seemed satisfied.

"Put the gun down. We can get through this without anyone getting hurt," continued Mustang in the same calm voice. Ed scoffed. His hands were now steady, and the gun no longer shook

"You sound like a broken record. Just turn around and walk away. Pretend that you didn't see anything." The ebony man did not move. "I said go, Mustang."

"No, Edward," he growled. "I'm not going to pretend that this is not happening. I am not going to ignore the fact that you want to kill yourself."

"This gun is loaded, and I will shoot you."

"You are not going to shoot me."

"The hell I won't!" shouted Ed as he stood up from the bed. "Did you know last night I almost killed somebody?" Edward continued on with the story before Roy could say anything. "You probably heard about it this morning. About a guy who was attacked and left in an alley?"

He had heard about that. Before he had sent Havoc to fetch Edward from the library, he overheard Fuery and Falman talking about it.

"Yes," said Roy in a toneless voice. "They said that he was assaulted and left to die. Someone found him and called the police. The doctors said that if he hadn't been found when he was he would have died from massive internal bleeding. Were you the one who did that?" Dark eyes narrowed, and Ed just smiled a sad smile.

"I couldn't stop. I just kept hitting him over and over again until he stopped moving." The gun lowered a fraction of an inch. Topaz orbs fell to the floor and the gun was lowered even more. Roy cautiously and slowly moved forward with hands still raised in the air.

"Tell me why you did it?" pushed Roy. He needed to keep Edward talking so he could be distracted. He planned on letting the boy monologue so he could get close enough to take the weapon away.

"I was angry, and he was at the wrong place at the wrong time." The revolver was now pointing at the floor in front Ed's feet. "I couldn't stop hitting him. I just couldn't. I don't know why. Then he stopped moving, and I panicked. I knew someone would find him, so I ran. Like the scared stupid child I am, I ran away." He looked up to see Roy was within arm's length of him. He jumped away, and slammed his back into the wall behind him. But it was not soon enough because Mustang saw all the angry cuts and scars on his arm. The gun was aimed at Roy again.

"Stay back!"

"This doesn't have to be the end. It doesn't have to be this way," said the dark haired man, echoing the words that his dead friend had spoken to him years ago.

"Yes it does!" The sad smile returned to the teens face. "I'm actually glad that you are here. Now I have a witness, and my rotting corpse won't stink up the place." Roy was about to say something, but Ed beat him to the punch. "Your life would be better if I was gone. I know about the trouble that I get you in because of the things that I've done. I know that one time I sent you to jail because of the stupid stunt that I pulled in Finor. For that I'm sorry." He placed the gun under his chin. "I'll see you around."

It was now, or never. Roy dashed forward and struck. He may not have been a master of hand-to-hand combat like Ed was, but he knew a thing or two. His fist came out and hit the boy in the abdomen. Ed cried out and fell, stunned, into a heap on the floor. The stun was only temporary, so Roy kicked the gun away, and snapped his fingers. There was a small boom as the barrel of the gun melted. Ed twisted his head up and saw the instrument of his destruction mangled.

"I thought you didn't have your gloves." said Ed in a strained voice of effort.

"I turned them inside-out before I came in. I knew that you would check to see if I had them on." He knelt down next to the stunned lad. "I'm sorry that I had to do that to you, but you left me no choice. You were going to kill yourself, and that is something that I cannot allow."

"You fucking bastard," groaned Ed. "You tricked me."

"Call me what you want, but I did what I thought was right." Amber eyes glared at him from the floor.

"Let me ask you something. What determines right and wrong in this world? What makes people good and evil?" Mustang mulled it over for a few seconds.

"I can't give you an answer for that," he finally said.

"There is no right or wrong, or good or evil. It's all just a perception. A judgment that our ancestors made thousands of years ago to make sure that there was order in early civilization. It gave power to leaders and those with wealth. It transcended generations and now it is give to us. We've been brainwashed since birth to believe this crap because society demands and wills it. It's like God. People only believe in Him because they are scared of what happens to them once they're dead."

"So says the atheist." Ed laughed a bitter laugh.

"Yes, so says the atheist. I know you are one too."

"I'm not really an atheist. I'm more agnostic than anything. Let's go, on your feet." He received a confused look from Edward as he helped him up.

"Where are we going?" Roy could not have the boy living by himself. He could try to kill him self again. There was only one option.

"My place. You will be livi—" A vicious kick stuck his side. He grunted and doubled over in pain as he was kicked with an automail leg. He saw Ed make a run for the distorted gun. He clapped his hands as Roy chased after him. He grabbed the revolver and, as if by magic, the barrel righted itself.

Many times had Mustang stared down a barrel of a gun. That many people wanted him dead, especially during the Civil War. He had been targeted by strangers, and hunted down by their assassins. Each time he shot or snapped back. He was used to being shot at by people he did not know, but not by people he trusted his back to. Not by people like Edward.

Time seemed to slow down. Ed had spun around with a mended revolver in hand. He pointed the gun at Roy. Adrenaline was pounding through his body. His natural response was to run. To flee from this dangerous situation, but he ignored his rationality. He was a mere four feet away when he saw a scarred finger curl around the trigger.

"Edward! No!" he called out, but it was too late for him to stop it. There was nothing he could do but feel fear invade his mind.

Edward pulled the trigger and fired.

* * *

HAHAHAHA!! Another cliffy LoL that's two in a row! I wonder if I can go for a third...Anyway please review. I would love to hear your opinion, and feedback on the story. I want to make sure that people are reading it and enjoying it. I don't like to keep putting up a story that no one's interested in. I love you! See you soon!


	5. Not To Be

I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I LOVE YOU PLEASE DON'T ABANDON ME! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!

I have been busy! I'm in college now and most of my time has been dedicated to my studies and my homework. Unfortunately even more of time will be dedicated to my college work T.T so it will take awhile before the next one will be up. I'M SORRY!! PLEASE FORGIVE ME AND DON'T LEAVE!!

Also the other reason is because I have been preparing for Hurricane Ike that is heading in to my area. I live in the Gulf Coast area, and I have been prepping for the storm that's going to hit. -sigh-

This chapter is dedicated to FreeCream. Why? Because she spent 2 months finding this story to read. This chapter is for you and for your dedication. LoL

Disclaimer: I did not create the plot, the idea, or the characters of the anime or manga Fullmetal Alchemist. They belong to their creator Arakawa, who is a very intelligent woman.

Warnings: language, angst, emo bashing, cutting, and plotting.

Rating is M for Mature

You have been warned! Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 5

Not to Be

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold..."— "The Second Coming" William Yeats

* * *

A weapon. An item that is used with the intent of doing bodily harm to another. If thought about, a weapon is anything one can use. Everything from a fan to bomb, or a book to a sledgehammer. If pondered upon, a tool could be used as a weapon. A screwdriver, for instance, is used to tighten screws into wood or metal, but can be used to stab someone in the eye with. Another one would be knife. It is a simple machine, or wedge for someone who is technical, and is used to cut meat, vegetables, fruit, and the human flesh. The car would be a weapon too. Yes, it is primarily used to transport people and objects over great distances, but it is a large, one ton, metal machine that could kill a pedestrian at high speeds. These items and more could be considered both tools and weapons. The gun, specifically a revolver, could be categorized as both. It is a weapon used to take the lives of many. It is also a tool because it protects its owner or anyone from danger. Though many would debate back and forth over this argument.

To clarify this issue, consider this situation. If young Edward Elric was afraid of being sent to a padded room because of his suicidal mental state, he would do anything to keep himself out of said room. He would use a revolver to keep the situation under control. In this case it would be a tool, but what about Roy Mustang on the receiving end. He would be injured, if not killed, by the bullet. In this instance, the gun would be a weapon. However, in this situation we would never find out because the revolver never went off.

Ed stood there, taking in panting gasps. His heart was pounding in his ears. His wide eyes stared into the wide dark ones of the Colonel's. Mustang had stopped dead in his tracks when the trigger was pulled. Bewilderment filled both of them as the gun started to shake. Mustang calmed himself down. He could not act like this in front of Edward. He had to display confidence and control for the boy's sake. He slowly approached Ed.

"Ed, its okay now. It's over now," he said as he reached out for the gun. It fell from Ed's slack hands, and clattered to the floor. It was soon followed by Ed. He fell to his knees, and then forward onto his hands. His whole body trembled, from head to toe.

_I shot him. I shot him. I killed him,_ thought Ed, almost totally oblivious to the fact that he had not shot Roy. The tall man kneeled down next to the shaking blond boy.

"Edward," his voice was soft and comforting. Ed did not respond, so he spoke again, "Edward, look at me." His voice finally went through. Honey eyes finally met his, torture burning bright in them. "I'm fine, Edward. I'm not hurt." This new piece of information started to sink into his mind.

"Why?" Ed's voice was cracking. "Why are you here?"

"Because I care."

"Why do you care?" Tears started to pool in his eyes. "Why…" His arms crumpled underneath him, and Roy caught him. He was pulled into a strong chest with comforting arms wrapped around him. His body shook even more violently as agony and shame took over. Agony that he had to live this horrible and wretched thing that dared call itself life. Shame that he had been caught trying to kill himself. He started sobbing in pain; the kind of pain that can rip a still beating heart right out and leave shredded remains behind in its wake.

Up until that moment in time he had never heard something so horrible than was being ripped from Edward's throat. The sound was pure human torture made real. He heard this kind of pain during the war from the people who he killed, but all of those screams combined did not add up to the suffering that emanated from the body of this small young boy. He was so young, and saw more than most people in had the military. Roy could only feel pity for the trembling figure in his arms. He heard a cracked voice raw with emotion cut through the air.

"Why… Why…" said the voice, and everything came out in rush. "Why won't you let me die? I don't want to live anymore! I hate it! Why won't you let me die?!" A new wave of tears began to drench Roy's black greatcoat. He did not say anything about it. He pulled Edward into his lap and began to rub his back in a circular motion. He felt a face being buried into his neck and the body curling up against him. Fingers were burying themselves into the thick fabric of his greatcoat. He gently rocked back and forth, all the while making small shushing sounds to calm Ed down.

After about ten minutes, the wailing quieted down to soft sobbing, and the shaking dwindled down to small tremors. Roy stopped all movement and just held Ed. Even now he could feel the small alchemist in his arms rejecting his touch, and recoiling away as much as he could in the limited space he was allowed. He knew Edward did not like being touched by other people unless necessary, but he never knew why. He did not have time to ponder on it when he felt movement in his arms. Edward pulled away from him, but still sat in his lap.

The dark eyed man could see the scars on the teen's arm more clearly now. He reached over and gently picked it up. Ghost white scars ran up and down the limb. Some were in uniform lines and others crisscrossed. His hand was in no better condition either. It had gashes that should have received stitches. It all made Roy wonder what Ed had been doing to himself.

"Can you explain this to me?" he asked in what he hoped was not an accusatory tone. Edward looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, and down to his arm. He felt his heart accelerate with panic and quickly pulled his arm away. He pressed it against his chest, and pulled his legs up to hide his shame.

"No," came the one word reply. He did not want anyone to see it, let alone having to explain it. Roy let it drop.

_I'll just to wait until he's ready,_ he thought.

"You are going to live with me from now on," said Roy. "And there's no point in arguing. You are going to live with me whether you like it or not. " Ed just merely nodded this, and stared off into space.

He started to twiddle his thumbs when he asked, "How did you know I was going to shoot you?" Roy sighed.

"I didn't." The body in his lap tensed. "To tell the truth I didn't think about it. I was more concerned that you were going to try to shoot yourself again. I knew that you were going to fix the barrel, so I melted the firing pin as well, just in case."

"I'm an open book, aren't I?" said Edward as he stared back off into space again with a gloomy look painted on his face.

"Sometimes, but not all the time. I just know you better than anyone else."

"I see." Roy could feel him fidget in his lap uncomfortably.

Ed did not like the intense stare that he was getting from the man. He felt uncomfortable and fidgeted. He really needed to break this annoying habit of his. Shame swelled up inside of even more. He had cried on Mustang's shoulder. He did not even like the man, and yet here he was sitting in the Colonel's lap who was trying to comfort him. He became angry. He did not want his comfort. He just wanted to die, and the Colonel was the only one that was preventing him. Could he get what he wanted for once without having to work so hard for it? Could he finally have a break from his horrible bad luck? Can he not choose what he wanted to do with his life? No, he could not. His life was always controlled by someone else. Alphonse, Mustang, Teacher, the homunculi. They all controlled his life at one point or another, and chose where it should go, not him. He had no say in it. He wanted his life back, but he gave up his life long ago along with his childhood.

Mustang's voice broke through his reprieve.

"Get your clothes and anything else you need." Edward stiffly nodded.

He rose from his spot and went to his dresser. He started to pull pants, shirts, boxers, and jackets from the drawers. He hunted down his suitcase that he took on missions, and opened it up next to the pile on the bed. Meanwhile, Mustang went to his window and snapped his fingers, but no flame appeared. Ed was curious about this but did not really care. He had a great number of things on his mind that he had to think about.

* * *

Riza waited in the car in a nervous jitter. Her fingers drummed constantly on the steering wheel, and her non-driving foot was jiggling in a frenzied fashion. Every few minutes she would check the door, fearing that she would see Roy running outside with a seriously wounded Edward, and then check her wristwatch. She groaned a bit. She so desperately wanted to go up there, but she had to wait in the car, just in case anything bad happened. And with Ed being involved, the outcome is as unpredictable as the future.

There was a popping sound, and right outside of the windshield a message written in fire appeared right in front of her. It read: "Over. Come up." She let out a sigh off relief and killed the engine.

She took the elevator up to the apartment and knocked. She heard Roy yell come in and so she did. She found them in the bedroom. Fullmetal was pulling clothes and other items out while the Flame Alchemist folded and packed everything neatly into a brown suitcase. She was relieved and mortified at the clothes that were being packed. She was glad that Ed had multiple _sets_ of the same outfit, yet upset that it was multiple sets of the _same outfit_.

_Doesn't this boy have any fashion sense?_ thought Riza with a frown on her face._ This can't be all what he really has to wear, is it? Why doesn't Roy have a problem with this? Note to self: take Edward shopping for a new wardrobe._

Roy only had to take one look at Riza to know exactly what she was thinking. Ed's tastes in clothes perturbed him a bit as well.

_Note to self:_ he thought. _Take Fullmetal shopping sometime._ After the clothes were packed, Roy straightened his back and gave the room a one over. He spotted the bathroom, and started to make his way to the room. A blur passed him up and was already in it.

"I got it!" called the blond blur and the door slammed shut. Roy blinked in confusion.

_That was close,_ Ed thought as he looked around the tiled bathroom to the trash can that was piled high with bloodied gauze pads and butterfly strips. He folded the paper bag that was standing in the place of a garbage bag closed and set it on his toilet. He then filled up a small grey bag with his toiletries, grabbed the brown bag, and strode out. He threw his bag next to his suitcase and the brown sack into the garbage bag. He tied up the black plastic bag and left it on the floor in his kitchen. He went back into the bedroom where Mustang and Hawkeye waited.

"Anything else that you need?" asked Mustang. Ed mulled it over for a moment.

"Yes," he drawled out. He went to the closet in his living room and pulled out a duffle bag that he sometimes brought with him on missions. He then went to the living room and pilled a few books from his shelf into it. He zipped the bag closed and straightened up.

"I'm ready," said Ed. They all left the apartment after Edward had repaired the lock. He threw his trash in the dumpster outside and sat in the back of the car. Unfortunately for him, the Colonel slid in right next to him.

"Where to, sir?" asked Hawkeye from the driver seat.

"My house," Mustang said. She nodded, started up the car, and they were on there way.

Mustang looked over Edward, and saw that he was staring out of his window with his head resting in his hand. His other hand was playing with the lock, pushing it down and pulling it back up. Roy's dark eyes drifted up to the front and shrugged at Riza's quizzical eyes that were watching his.

Ed watched the scenery lazily roll past him. He could not believe that Mustang had caught him. He was being very careful before, what changed? Did he not see some variable or was there something that he miscalculated? Maybe he got Mustang all wrong. Maybe he was smarter than he looked. Ed snorted at that.

_He's not that smart,_ he thought. _Well, it was him that stopped me from killing myself. Maybe he put the pieces together or something._ His mind trailed off on that thought. A frown appeared on his face. _After all that waiting and preparation for the right time. I even wrote out that goddamn will! I made sure that everything was taken care of! I made sure that I would go unnoticed! I double checked everything! What went wrong?! What changed?_ _Of course. It was him!_ He grounded his teeth together. _It was that bastard! That damn fucking bastard ruined everything! It was his entire fault! That…THAT!!_ Edward could not keep the anger inside his mind anymore.

Roy was in his own musings when he suddenly heard a very loud, "FUCKING BASTARD!!"

"Edward! Watch your language!" snapped Hawkeye.

"THIS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!" shrieked Ed. His voice reverberated deafeningly in the small metal cabin. "Everything would have been so much better if I just died! All of my problems would have disappeared!"

"How would you know?" calmly asked Mustang. The teen next to him viciously growled at him and then huffed.

"Why did you even fucking bother?" he seethed. "Why do you care? Last I checked you didn't give a damn." The car suddenly came to a screeching halt, and all of its inhabitants' jerked forward against their seatbelts.

"I have warned you about your language!" yelled Hawkeye. She drew her gun in one quick fluid motion, and it was aimed at young man in the backseat. "Roy does everything for you and this is how you repay him? He risked his own life to make sure that you still have one!" There was silence in the car. What disturbed Roy the most was that Edward's face was completely blank and apathetic. Ed brought up a hand and held the gun by the barrel. He leaned forward, and placed the end of the barrel on his forehead with his fingers wrapped around it.

He looked her dead in the eye and said, in an ice cold, stern, metallic voice, "I am not afraid of you. Do it. I dare you." Her chest tightened. She could not make a move. It shook her down to the core that Edward had willing put his life in her hands.

"I'm waiting. Come on, shoot me." When she did not do anything, Ed scoffed and batted the gun away from his face. "Thought so." He leaned back again and stared out of the window once more.

"Riza please drive," said Roy. She put here gun away, turned the car on, and started driving down the road once more.

"You have a lot of gall, Fullmetal," said Mustang and all he got was a "tch". "I don't care if you yell or bad mouth to me, but you won't be doing that to Hawkeye, do you understand me?" He felt like a scolding parent.

"Whatever," said Ed in an indifferent tone. The rest of the journey was completed in silence. They pulled up to Mustang's house, and Edward had to admit that it was a nice house.

"Sir, I'm going to pick up your paperwork from the office and bring it here," said a shaken Hawkeye.

"Very well." With that she drove off as the two men walked into the house.

Once inside, Ed viewed the home from the foyer.

The living room automatically attached to the foyer with a pair of double doors leading to the dining room. There was hall that led to other rooms that he did not know. The living room was decorated nicely with a brick fireplace along one wall with what appeared to be a brass mantle; in the center of the room was an oak coffee table that had a small wooden bowl with some cubes in it; there was two couches that were made with more oak and a grey cloth; above there was a ceiling fan that spun lazily, and the walls were painted a royal blue. On one of the walls hung a painting that had the same color tones as midnight. There were tall willows swaying in the foreground, and there were small black bids flying off in the background. He got the feeling of nighttime as the theme of the room. He had to also grudgingly admit that the Colonel had good taste.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he heard from behind him. Mustang strode past him, and beckoned with his hand to follow. "I'll show you where you will be staying and the rest of the house." Ed hitched up his duffle bag a bit higher on his shoulder, and followed down the hall that was attached to the living room.

He was lead up a carpet staircase that had the same blue and black carpet from downstairs, and saw it flow smoothly on the upper floor. They went down the hall to a simple dark brown door on the right. The Colonel opened the door, and gestured for him to enter. In the room there was a queen size bed that had its head board pushed up against a wall, a dresser up against another and another painting hung in here. This time it looked more like a map of the world than a painting. It even had a compass rose, and a little sea serpent jumping through the waters. The walls were painted an olive green

"You can put your clothes in that dresser, and if you need and extra blanket or pillow you can get them in the linen closet down the hall. I'll give you the grand tour." Ed dropped his stuff on the bed. "Here's the bathroom," Roy indicated an open door. "It has a bathtub/shower, and everything else. Over there," He pointed at a door. "Is the linen closet. If you run out of towels, just look in there. Down here," They went back down to the hall to another room, and Roy opened its door. "Is my room, and the master bathroom." Ed only got a brief glance at the room before the door closed again. All he saw was that the walls were a dark purple. They went down the stairs to the hall. "The kitchen, and that leads to the dining room," There was a doorway to the white room, and in the middle was a small table with chairs. Off to the side was another pair of double doors. "The coat closet, my office slash study, I'm usually in here if I need to do work at home." The door was already opened to show a room that was like the Colonel's office at HQ, but this room had bookshelves that were filled with books and a few statues here and there. Roy saw the expression Ed had when he saw the numerous books and smiled. He looked like a small child on Christmas Day. "You can read them if you want."

"Really?"

"Yes." Now it really looked like Christmas Day for Edward. "Here's the laundry room, another bathroom, and the garage." Roy indicated two more doors down the hall.

"What about that one?" asked Ed. He pointed to a third door. Mustang sighed. He knew exactly what door that the boy was talking about. He turned around and went to the door. He placed a palm on the wooden surface.

"You need to understand something very important. For the entire time that you are here, you must never go into this room."

"Why?" The man's dark eyes darted away to the door.

"Just don't go in there. Whatever you do, don't open it, and don't go in. If I'm in here, don't disturb me. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, never go into that room." Edward rolled his golden eyes in a bored fashion.

"I'm being serious, Edward." The young man held up his right hand as if he were taking an oath.

"From this day forth, I, Edward the Fullmetal Alchemist, do swear to never enter the premises of the room that has been recently discussed, nor am I permitted to open its portal of entry, or disturb you if you are currently holed up in it. I get it."

"Good, because I trust you with this. Put your stuff away, I'll get you when lunch is made." Ed turned on his heel and went up the stairs back to his room. Roy went to the kitchen to make sandwiches for their late lunch and earlier dinner.

Once in his room, Edward put his clothes in the dresser drawers, and his books on top. He went back down the stairs. He saw the ebony haired man in the kitchen, making cold cut sandwiches, and went in the office, to the books. His eyes raked each book spine. Soon he found a few books that had obtained his interest, but there was one book that did not have a title. Its color was faded to a point were he could not tell if the original color was either green or brown. He reached out a hand.

"Lunch!" called Roy. Ed gave the book a longing look before he turned around and left.

Roy was already making himself a ham sandwich when he heard Fullmetal's uneven footsteps. One foot hit the ground harder than the other.

"There's ham and turkey. What do you want to drink?" asked Roy as he opened the refrigerator.

"What do you have?" asked Edward as he made his own meal.

"Orange juice, apple juice, water, and milk." Ed cringed a bit at the last the last option.

"Orange juice." The Flame Alchemist pulled out the desired drink.

"Why don't you drink milk? It will make you grow, I promise," he said with smirk on his face. Ed slammed his fist on the counter as he tried to control his anger.

_Don't react. Don't react!_ thought Ed. _That is exactly what he wants! Be calm!_

"No thanks," said Ed through tight lips as he ripped the OJ bottle from the older man's grasp. "I despise that stuff with a fiery passion." He poured himself a glass.

"Edward, why do you hate milk? It's good for you." The blond sat down and the dark haired man sat across from him.

"'Cause."

"I need a better answer then that." Golden eyes glared at him.

"Because." Ed tore a small bite out of his lunch, and swallowed.

Roy sighed. "Were you kicked by a cow when you were milking it?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"Fine. Since I'm living here, and you are being annoying as hell I might as well just tell you. For future reference so you don't accidently send me to the hospital." He took another nibbled bite, chewed, swallowed, and washed it down while Mustang sat patiently. "I'm lactose intolerant."

"Really?" Shock colored his voice.

"Yeah really. You got a problem with that?" responded Ed sternly.

"No, no I'm just surprised. So what happens when you drink milk?" Roy started to eat his own ham sandwich.

"I get very sick, and it's not just milk but all dairy products that contain milk, especially yogurt. I cannot touch that stuff. Now cheese on the other hand, it depends on how much is in my food. So I'm telling you now right now, if you don't want to be mopping up vomit from your kitchen floor don't give me milk."

"Point taken." They continued to eat. Roy ripped chunks like lion on a zebra carcass, and Ed nibbled away like a mouse with a piece of cheese.

"Edward."

"Hmmm?" came the response from the boy. The older man put down his food, leaned back in his chair, and neatly folded his hands in his lap. He looked the golden eyed teen in eye, and captured his gaze. He promised himself not to pry too much, but it burned too much in his mind on the ride to his home. He needed to ask.

"Why did you let yourself get this bad? Why didn't you get help and talk to someone?"

Ed stared at the ebony eyes across from him, and his lips moved in a monotone motion.

"When I was kid, and Hoenheim lived at the house," started Edward in a bleak voice. His eyes stayed fixated on Mustang's. "My mother would try to get us to go outside and do things together as family. However, that bastard rarely left the house. He would always stay locked up in his study for hours, and not eat or sleep for days on end. One time, when my mother went outside to do laundry, I tripped while going down the stairs, and landed wrong. I was screaming so much, and it hurt so badly. _He_ was too engrossed with his books to hear me. Mom heard me as soon as she opened the door. I had a broken arm, and a bruised rib. About a year later, while Mom was at the market, I touched a hot stove with the burner on high just see what it felt like. After a few more incidents of childhood curiosity, I began to realize something. What's the point in crying out in pain if there is no one there to hear or care? I gave up. I didn't even cry at my own mother's funeral. That's why."

Edward stood and cleaned up. He placed his unfinished sandwich in the refrigerator.

"I'm going to take a nap." He turned and went back to his room. He kicked off his boots, left his clothes on, curled up under the blankets, and drifted off to sleep, hoping that he would not have a night terror.

A little later Riza came back with papers that needed Roy's signature.

"Roy, are you sure you can do this by yourself?" asked Hawkeye.

"I've signed papers for a long time. I'm pretty sure that I'm experienced enough to do this by myself."

"No, I mean, are you sure you can handle Edward."

"I'll be fine. I have…. a personal experience to pull from." He thought of Maes Hughes, his best friend who now lies six feet below the ground in a wooden box. He thought about one dark incident that happened after the war that involved him, human transmutation, Maes, and an apple pie from Gracia.

"If you need help, will you tell me?" He knew the deep affection that she held for Edward, and knew that she was just worried about the teen.

"Of course, don't I always." She gave him a scowl.

He waved good-bye from his door as the Lieutenant drove off, and he deposited the papers in his office. He quickly changed out of his uniform, and began to work. It was nearing seven o'clock when he finished, and he was hungry. Roy went back up the stairs to Ed's room. He knocked.

* * *

Ed was groggy when he woke up. He hated sleeping during the day. He always felt horrible when he woke up. His hand clumsily searched for the alarm clock that was next to his bed. When he found it, and brought it up to face to see that it read 5:34. He groaned, and set it down on the bed. He rolled over onto his back and sat up. Immediately his head began to swim and throb. He threw his legs over the side of the bed. He began to strip his shirts off. He was sweating like a pig.

_That's what I get for sleeping with my coats on,_ thought Ed irritably. He soon had nothing but his pants on when he opened up his window. The cool October air hit the sweat on his chest and he shivered pleasantly as his body cooled down.

"That feels good," he muttered. He stared out of the window as he contemplated his situation, and he soon became angry with himself. He just told Mustang a story from his past and he was pissed off. He was not into that whole "help me help you" ideology, so Mustang better be prepared. He scowled as slammed the window shut and threw the curtains closed. He went to his bag and pulled out some bandages and tape. Digging around in his pocket, he withdrew his pocket watch, flipped it open and pulled out his razor blade.

The sharp edge tore apart his skin. With every slash he made, he felt his anger wash away bit by bit. When he depleted that emotion, he looked over his work. Many of the cuts crisscrossed his arm, and chest. Ed, in his book, does not associate himself with emo's who were always complaining about how "no one understands them".

_Emo's,_ thought Ed bitterly. _There are always bitching about how no one understands, or that their soul is decaying, or that the only reason that they have to cut themselves is to feel something because they are so "numb". Fucking emo's. They have no idea what true suffering is. Whiny little bitches._ He sighed and started to clean up his mess.

Right in the middle of him bandaging up his arm, there was resounding knock at his door.

"Crap!" he furiously whispered to himself. He then called to the door, "Just a minute!" Ed quickly wrapped up the last part of his injury, and dug through the bag again to find his black, long sleeved shirt. He pulled it over his head. It was a little tight, but it had to do for now. He just hoped that Mustang would not notice the bulge on his arm. He zipped up his bag, threw it under the bed, grabbed his trash, and stuffed that in one of the pillow's cases. There was another knock at his door.

"Hold on!" called Ed. He composed himself and redid his braid with lighting fast fingers. Once he was ready he opened the door. Suspicion could be read all over the man's face.

"What were you doing?" asked Mustang.

"Nothing. I was just sleeping and you woke me up," said Ed defensively, a little too defensively.

"Really?" He pushed pass the boy and went in. His dark eyes quickly scanned the room and he found nothing out of place, but, to him, that meant nothing.

"Are you done?" asked an annoyed Ed.

"For now. It's dinner time. What do you want to eat?" He shrugged.

"I'll have the rest of the sandwich." With that he was gone to have his heart attack in peace.

_That was close,_ thought Edward as he pulled his sandwich out of the fridge. He heard Roy move behind him as he looked through the cabinets to find himself something to eat.

Ed finished the rest of his food. He holed himself up in Mustang's office for the rest of the afternoon, reading the books there. He could not find that green book again. The place where it had been was now an empty space. Mustang must have taken it out, but why? Ed pouted a bit. He really wanted to read it, but he had to make do with what he got. When night had fallen, he stood to go to bed.

"Before you go, Ed I need to give you a few rules," said Mustang from his desk.

"Rules?" questioned Ed. Roy laced his fingers together.

"In a manner. At six a.m. you'll wakeup, get ready, and you'll leave with me at seven thirty for work. You'll eat three meals a day. If you don't like it, I'll shove food down you throat. You're too skinny for your height and age. Around six is when I leave. You'll go to bed no later than ten-thirty. For weekends, you may sleep in if want, but you are still to go to bed on time. On those mornings I go out for a run, you may come along if you want. Any mess you make, you're cleaning it up. I'm not your maid. I expect you do chores around the house as well. Things like cleaning, and such. If you don't abide to a rule you will be punished depending on how severe it is. Do you understand, or do I need to repeat myself?"

"I got you," snorted Edward.

"I'm giving you quite a bit of freedom. Just be grateful that I'm not requiring you to be at my side twenty-four seven. I could make more rules." A smirk formed on Roy's pale face.

"No thanks."

"Good. Oh, there is one more thing before you head off." Mustang rose from his chair, and rounded the desk to stand right in front of Ed.

"What?" he asked as eyed him cautiously. Before he could protest or fight him off, Roy grabbed his arm, and pushed up the sleeve in one swift motion. The bled through dressing was now showing for the whole world to see. Edward tensed in the man's grasp.

"Don't think that I haven't noticed, Fullmetal. I'm not blind." Ed growled at him.

"You—"

"Every day I'll be checking you for any new cuts. If I find any new marks anywhere on your body, you will be punished."

"You can't do that!" raged Ed. Black eyes narrowed deadly, and he shied away from it.

"Watch me," whispered Roy dangerously. He let go of Ed, who automatically put space between them. He pulled down the sleeve of his shirt. "Get some sleep. Good night, Fullmetal."

"Night, sir," he spat before he stormed off to bed.

He changed out into a long sleeved pajama shirt and pants once he was in his room. Before he pulled his shirt on, he gave himself a look over. He could almost see his ribs sticking out of his chest. He had slight purplish bags underneath his eyes. No wonder Mustang implemented those rules on him. He was in a sorry state. He pulled the shirt over his head. He would now have to be even more on his guard with that hawk watching his every move. He pulled at the tape on his hand, and undid the bandages. The cuts have scabbed over, and were on there way to making a full recovery. He started picking at one of his scabs, which stung only a little bit, and eventually he managed to tear it off. He repeated the process with all the other wounds on his hand. He wanted to make scars. He wanted reminders for his mistakes. They all started to bleed again, and he bandaged them up once more. He pushed the covers back on his bed, and curled up underneath them. He will show Mustang what living with him is like. He will pay.

* * *

I hope you people have enjoed this chapter. Please review, and thank you for reading. See y'all next time!


	6. Night Terrors

Hello again everyone. I have been very busy because of college. I had to write an essay and find 6 sources, but I only managed to find 5. Also because I got hit by Hurricane Ike and I lost power for 4 days, and god it was hot!! I was crying because I had no A/C, and then I was crying tears of joy when my power turned back on, and then I cried again when I saw how bad Galveston got it. So yeah... I've got a lot of complaints about chapter 5 because of the Hamlet quote so I reread it and I yelled "what the hell was I thinking!?" So revised chapter 5 and repost it. But now I need to go. It's time for bed for me. Good night all of my loyal readers!

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Phoenix Wright. Just this story

Warnings: language, angst, blood and gore, a little sexual content, and other yummy stuff.

Rating is M for Mature

You have been warned! Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6

Night Terror

"Those with the greatest awareness have the greatest nightmares."― Mahatma Gandhi

* * *

Contrary to his previous judgments, Edward was a good house guest. Ed was up before Roy was, just exercising and working out. He always cleaned up after himself, washed his own laundry, and abided to the rules that Roy set down. Much to his joy, Ed had even started to gain back some of his weight. This had been going for about four days until….

It started like any other day. Roy went into Edward's room. He was doing chin-ups with a makeshift bar, and Roy told him to get ready. They ate breakfast, and left with Hawkeye for HQ. Just like normal, just like a normal day. Ed was alone in the library, reading a book that he had already read before. He looked up at the clock that hung on the wall, and it said that the time was a little past two. He sighed. Mustang was going to be upset with him because he was supposed to be in his office at one thirty (one of the rules that was set down for him), but he did not care. He stopped caring a long time ago. He scowled at the clock.

_Stupid Mustang with his stupid rules,_ thought Ed bitterly. _Well, time to face him._ He closed the book, and placed it back where it belonged. He threw on his coat, and was at the front desk when he paused. Why should he do what he was told? He was not some baby that needed to be looked after. Was he not going to teach Mustang what it was like to be with him? Then an idea struck him. He turned to the lady at the desk.

"Excuse me, miss?" he asked.

"Yes?" she chirped happily.

"If I give you a message, could you deliver it to Colonel Roy Mustang?" She blushed at the name.

"Why, yes of course I can," she said, a bit too excitedly.

"Perfect." He pulled out his notebook and wrote a note on the very last page. He tore it out, folded it carefully, and passed it to the woman. "Thank you." He winked at her and her blush intensified. He went on his merry way, whistling to himself. He left the grounds and headed into town. His passed by a few stores until he found one that had caught his eye. He noticed that the mannequins had on black baggy clothing with hair that were unnatural shades. They also had piercings and bolts going right through their noses. Edward was taken aback by the dark apparel, but nonetheless intrigued by it all. He walked inside.

Heavy Metal poured out of hidden speakers as he took in the gothic clothing. Besides the clothing, there were boots, chains, music tapes, and other paraphernalia that lined the walls. He saw a man with orange hair, and several piercings in his eyebrows and ears who was folding up shirts. Edward approached the man.

"Can I help you?" he asked as placed the newly folded stack of shirts on a metal shelf.

"Hi, what kind of clothes are these?" said Ed as he looked at a shirt that had picture of a boot on it with words "Boot to the head" written underneath it.

"Have you been living under a rock?" said the man with a shocked expression on his face. Ed shrugged.

"Pretty much." The man shook his head at this.

"It's the two new styles that the teenagers are into. They call it punk and goth," Ed gave him a confused look, and he continued with, "Punk is basically anti-establishment who want to stick it to the man, you know? And goth is people who are into tragic beauty. If you are interested, the items on that shelf over there," He indicated a large metal shelf. "Are twenty percent off."

"I think I will take a look. Thanks," said Ed. He looked through the cloths. Even though he did not necessarily like the new styles of cloths that people his age seem to be into, he did like a few of the items that were being sold. He thought he would give it a try. He was going through the pants when someone approached him.

"Hey, man, cool symbol," said a voice, and he turned around. The speaker looked about Ed's age. His hair was short, spiked and blue, his eyes were a nice deep green, he had a long face with high cheekbones, his jeans were black with rips in it, and a loose pale blue shirt covered his torso. He was also taller then Edward, to his dismay. The stranger's eyes were on the back of his long red coat, and undoubtedly on the Serpent and Cross.

"Thanks," muttered Ed.

"I'm James, by the way." He held out his right hand. Ed quickly examined the extended hand. After a few years of being hunted, and attacked by strangers, he had become quite cautious of the people the he met. For all he knew James was some assassin working for some kind of faction. For any reason, he did not allow people to get close to him anymore. They always ended up being hurt, or killed, because of him, or they would try to hurt him.

James began to shift nervously from foot to foot underneath his frosty stare. Edward took the hand and shook it after deciding to be polite.

"Edward." He turned back to the racks, and pulled out a few pairs of pants that he would like to try on.

"Your hand is automail?" asked James, bewildered.

"My whole right arm is," stated Ed plainly. He never liked talking to strangers about his automail; it brought back unwanted memories.

"Cool." The corner of Ed's mouth twitched. He raised his right arm, and pushed back the sleeves of his red and black jackets to revel the shiny metal underneath.

"Cooler than skin," said Edward. Did he not say that to a child once on a train?

_Hmm…déjà vu,_ he thought as he went to a shelf pilled high with shirts.

"So how old are you?"

Still trying to be polite, Edward answered, "Seventeen."

"I'm seventeen too. So, are you from around here?" asked James. Why could this guy not leave him alone, and what was with him trying to play Twenty Questions?

"Look, James," he said. "I appreciate your attempt to make small talk with me, but I'm not interested. I'd rather be left alone. As in now."

"Oh, come on. You don't mean that," said James cheerfully.

_Why is he smiling?_ Ed thought.

"Yes I do," he said through tight teeth.

"No, you don't." James' voice became serious all of a sudden, and all traces of cheer were gone. "You're really lonely aren't you?" Edward automatically stiffened.

_Who does this guy think he is? The Colonel?_ thought Ed. His topaz eyes locked onto the emerald pair of James, who was even smirking like Mustang.

"I'm really good at reading people. Some are like open books, and others are like stories written in an ancient language. You…" Green eyes scrutinized him. "You are a message written in code, and I just cracked your code."

"You must be a backed up toilet."

"Why do you say that?" There was that Colonel_esque_ smirk again.

_They must be related,_ concluded Edward.

"Because you are spewing crap."

James laughed.

"A bit defensive are we? Then I must be close. Let's see if I can get closer." His face contorted into a look of concentration as if he was trying to solve a difficult mathematic problem in his head. Edward began to wonder if this guy was actually Mustang's clone because the gaze was just as penetrating as his.

"You are alone. It's something you don't like, but you will never admit it to anyone. I believe that you have been with someone for a real long time, and now they are gone. You push people away yet you want them, but I don't know why. Am I getting warm?"

"No, you're very cold," said Edward icily.

"Another defensive response. That means I'm right on the button."

_Oh ho-oh, this guy is good, isn't he Edward?_ said a nasty voice in his head. _I like him._

_Not now. Please, not now,_ pleaded Ed.

"Ah!" cried out James and Ed jumped. "I just remembered something. I need to go meet some of my friends. Just stay here, Edward, and I'll be back in about ten minutes. See ya!" James walked briskly out of the store and down the street.

_Awww, I think he likes you,_ cooed his guilt.

"Shut up," muttered Edward.

_Now, no need to get all pissy, my love,_ it said in its velvet voice. Ed grumpily went through the shirts. He picked out a few, and went into the dressing room to try on his clothes. When he pulled a long sleeved shirt over his head, he saw that _it_ replaced his reflection in the mirror.

"Can't you leave me alone for one minute?" growled Ed. His reflection pouted at him.

_I left you alone for four days. I get lonely too, you know,_ it replied in a heartbreaking voice. _I just wanted to talk to you. I missed you._

"You missed tormenting me," he seethed back. "And most of our conversations end up with me breaking something." He buttoned up the rave pants, and pulled the shirt down over it. The gold eyes of his reflection appraised him.

_That looks good on you, love._ It stepped out of the full length mirror. It walked around him as it pulled the hair tie out. The gold locks fell around its shoulders. _It accents your ass nicely._ It gave his ass a swift playful smack that made him squeak.

"Don't do that!" he growled out through grinding teeth. It laughed his remark off as it placed its hands on his hips.

_Why don't you see for yourself?_ It turned him around so that his back was facing the mirror. He glared at the phantom that he was now face to face with. _Go on take a look._ It forced his head to turn, and he looked. It was right. The pants did accent his rump decently. He heard it chuckle in his ear.

_Have I ever lied to you?_ it purred at him. _What you really should try is leather._

"What?" His head snapped back around. He instantly jerked away when he realized that its face was only a few centimeters away from his. It carried on as if it did not notice.

_Yes, leather,_ it said in its velvet voice. It let go of him and sat delicately down in the chair that sat in the corner of the dressing room. _It's fall and a perfect time to wear because it's not too cold and not too hot. It will make your body even better, and the ladies will love it. It will also make your ass and hips look sexy._ Ed snorted at it.

"I'll think about it," he said, but he knew he would not. Its honey colored eyes suddenly brightened up.

_Speak of, how have you been sleeping? Any night terrors recently?_ It held an evil grin on its face that sent shivers down his spine.

Those words sounded quite ominous.

_Why don't you keep trying on your clothes. I'm sure there are people who are waiting to use the dressing room._

He did as he was told while his guilt gave him feedback on the outfits. In the end, he chose two pairs of red and black rave pants, and a few shirts. He changed back into his regular clothes. He could not help but feel as if there was some dark and impending clouds that were just on the horizon. The kind that advertised a horrible storm approaching with the promise of heavy rain, flooding, a possible tornado, and other weather fronts. His remorse snickered behind him.

_My dear, you're reading into it too much._ The voice was silky and soft to the point of being completely alluring. _Haven't you always been a person of the present and not the future? You should not worry about something that is going to happen._

He shrugged. Maybe it was right. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, and making something out of nothing. Then again…

_Have I ever lied to you?_

Edward put the rejects back, picked out a chain and a pair of black leather gloves, and paid for his clothes, barely.

_I never realized that this place was so expensive,_ he thought to himself.

_It's okay to treat yourself once in a while, love,_ his ghost stated. _Or else you would be just another penny pincher with a dull life._

_But I only have a cen left,_ thought Ed miserably as he headed to the door, but he stopped dead in his tracks. James was there with two of his friends flanking him. James raised his arm into the air and waved. Ed grumbled to himself.

_Be nice,_ teased his other half. Since James had already seen him, he had no choice but to talk to him. He strode up to the man and gave him a curt hello.

"Introductions!" exclaimed James happily. "Edward, this is Jasmine and that's Adam. Guys, this is Edward." He indicated the two people next to him. Jasmine was a tiny little thing. Her skin was bronze, her hair a vibrant chestnut, and she wore sunglasses. Her clothes consisted of a red plaid skirt and a white button up shirt with an emblem patch on the front pocket. With out a doubt, Ed knew that she went to a private school. Adam on the other hand was tall, pale, with shaggy acid green hair, and a lanky body that reminded Ed strongly of a twig. His clothes were baggy, and his pants had to be held up by a belt. They both nodded at him, but did not say anything.

"Hi," said Ed with a small wave.

"Okay let's go! Time to roll out!" said James in a cheerful chirp.

"Huh?" asked Ed dumbly. Jasmine turned her head away, but he had a feeling that she just rolled her eyes at him.

"You're coming with us," stated James with a bright smile on his face. He grabbed the stunned blonde's arm, and half dragged him out of the store with Jasmine and Adam right behind them. Edward stumbled as James pulled him along the street.

"Hey! I can walk by myself!" growled Ed as he yanked his arm out of James' grasp. He huffed. "Where are we going anyway?"

"To a restaurant. We're starving," replied James. His friends just followed along quietly.

"Well, have fun then. Bye," said Edward blandly. He went to the edge of the sidewalk, looked both ways before crossing the street, and put a foot out on the road. However, he did not have time to take a second step before was being dragged again down the street by James, this time backwards.

"You can eat with us. It's cool."

_Does this guy ever give up?! _thought Ed. He heard a small laugh in his head.

_Apparently not,_ his regret answered.

_Why are you still here?_ snarled Ed, taking his anger out on the figment of his imagination. He saw it floating above him on its back with its hands behind its head. The shoulders shook with laughter. It flipped around, and folded its arms across its chest.

_Someone has to make sure that your sanity stays intact._ It grinned at him. It swung its feet down, and righted itself in the air, taking a seated position. Ed scowled at it as he continued to awkwardly walk down the street. Suddenly he came to a halt.

"Here it is!" sang James happily. Edward was then allowed to stand up straight again. He was spun around, and saw a small deli shop. "I heard they make the best sandwiches in all of Central." They entered the store, and it was already crowded.

"James, I don't have money," drawled Ed plainly.

"I'll pay for you." Before he could protest, a hostess came and sat them at a booth. He sat next to James while Jasmine and Adam sat together on the other side. "Pick anything you'd like."

"I'm not hungry." It was a half-truth. Even though he ate three square meals a day (thanks to one of the Colonel's rules), he only did that to please Mustang, and to get him off his back. Besides, he never finished any of those meals. He would nibble and snack on the food until he thought Mustang was satisfied with the amount he took in. Right now, he was not willing enough to put on a front for these strangers.

"Got to keep your strength up," encouraged James as he looked over the menu. His friends had both of theirs menus down on the table, and were hunched of over them.

_Yes dear, you have to keep your strength up,_ jeered the specter from its perch on the partition between their table the one next them.

The waiter came to take their orders.

"Hello, I'm Travis. I'll be your server. What can I get for you today?" he said with a pencil and a pad of paper already in hand.

"Ladies first," said James with gesture towards Jasmine. She shrugged.

"I'll have a Club salad with vinaigrette dressing on the side," she said in a voice that was more suited for little girls with large lollipops and dimples. "I would like a water to drink." She folded her menu up, and pushed it to the center of the table. She folded her hands in her lap and sat back.

"Adam," gestured James.

"For me, I'll get the Traditional Hoagie. A Fob to drink," said Adam in gruff voice. James gave the waiter his order and gestured to Edward.

"I'll just have water," said Ed blandly with a shrug.

"Alright I'll get those drinks out for you." The waiter took the menus and walked off.

"So Jasmine, how's private school?" said James. She did not answer him. She was staring at Edward. He folded his arms across his chest and stared back, making sure that he kept his face carefully blank.

"Jasmine?" asked Adam. She turned her head away to look at James.

"Fine," she declared in a bored tone. "Some girls tried to pick a fight with me, but I put them in their place."

"I hope you didn't beat them too hard," said James jokingly.

"Not too hard, just enough to make sure that they don't talk." The corners of her mouth tugged up into a smile. "I did warn them, but they didn't listen." With that they all started talking while Edward felt the clouds closing in.

* * *

Roy drummed his fingers on the desk, thoroughly annoyed.

_Where is that shrimp?_ he thought furiously. There was knock on his door, and it opened. A woman, clad in a secretary uniform, stepped in. She stared at him as if she was dreaming before she shook herself out of her trance and approached his desk.

"Excuse me, Colonel Mustang?" she said. "Major Elric wanted me deliver a message to you." She pulled a note out of her pocket with shaky fingers.

"Thank you," he said as he tried to make his voice sound pleasant through tight lips. She left in a daze. He unfolded the communiqué and read it carefully.

It said:

_Hey bastard, don't wait up for me. I'm going to go downtown. Don't know when I'll be back. Probably late._

_From the person who despises you the most,_

_Edward_

The Colonel let out a low growl. He crumpled up the paper, put it in his ash tray, snapped, and set it on fire. The fire danced in front of him like a beautiful exotic dancer made of orange and white. He tented his hands, and rested his chin on his propped up hands. As he stared into the heart of the petite blaze, he thought it was a good representation of Edward. Both were volatile, destructive, and hard to control. However, he was the Flame Alchemist. With a snap of his fingers he could transmute small warming embers or a scorching inferno. If he could control one form of fire, then certainly he could control the other.

His initial anger died with the flame before him, and waned back into annoyance. He grumbled the words "bratty" and "midget" as he continued to do the work that was given to him by his "lord and master". The way that he had figured was that in the beginning, he would give Edward a list of rules for him to follow by, and if he broke any of them he would be disciplined. As logic dictated, Ed broke one of his rules, ergo the boy must be punished. However, this was not too severe, so it would depend on the state that Fullmetal was in whenever he decided to return

After a long day, Mustang was finally caught up with his paperwork. A miracle, as Breda put it.

"Are you ready, sir?" asked Riza, holding an armful of the paperwork.

"Yes," he said as he shrugged on his black greatcoat.

"Good, go get Fullmetal while I turn in your work."

"He's already gone." She gave him a confused expression. "He left early to go into town."

"I see." She frowned at him as they both left the office. "Is that what that message was about?"

He nodded, and her frown deepened. They turned in his work at the main desk and headed outside.

"Did he tell you where he was going to meet you?"

"No. He just said that he would be back late, so just take me home." Riza sighed at this.

"Very well."

The drive was quiet, and Roy waved good-bye to Riza from his doorstep as she drove away. Through the rest of the evening, he repeatedly checked and rechecked the time. It started to get very late, and still no Edward. He growled as he shut down all of the lights in his home. He flipped the living room light off, and sat on the couch in the dark. He liked the darkness because it allowed him think more clearly then he could when it was bright. There was no light to illuminate the many visual distractions and stimuli. His head fell onto the back of the couch. Sooner or later the boy needed to learn that rules are meant to be followed for a reason, and that there are consequences for breaking them. This reminded him that Riza had yet to tell of his transgression, the one of him breaking the Agreement, to the others. His punishment would most likely be slow, tortuous and humiliating. Hawkeye was undoubtedly thinking of the most painful way to beat him with all of a woman's scorn that hell hath no. He shuttered at the thought, but he knew that he had to take it like a man.

Finally, close to midnight, the door opened and a certain petite alchemist entered. Roy could see him in the dim moonlight. He heard movement from the foyer and saw a head poke out into the living room. The head retreated and Ed started to make his way across the living room to the stairs. He was halfway across when Roy reached out to the wall and flipped the lights on. Edward blinked in surprise, saw him, and screamed a series of profanities at him. Ed stumbled back into the dining room doors, clutching his chest.

"Don't do that again!" yelled Ed. He then added in a calmer voice, "You gave me a heart attack."

"Welcome back," said Roy in a stiff and indifferent tone. "Where have you been?" He eyed the black plastic bag in the adolescent's hand.

"Out," he answered as he shrugged out of his red coat.

"Out where?"

"I don't see why that is any of your business," he replied coldly as he went up the stairs. Roy followed him.

"It's my business for as long as you live in this house." Roy saw something glitter on Ed's ear. "Is that an earring?" The teen reached up and fingered the thing that was attached to his lobe.

"A stud, actually." They were in front of Ed door.

"You got a piercing?" asked Roy, bewildered as to why Ed would get one in the first place. Ed rolled his eyes in an exasperated way.

"No," Ed's tone was bitingly sardonic. "It's actually a birth defect where I grow metal out of random parts of my body. I originally had taken medicine for it, but ever since I came here, I couldn't take them. Now I might need to get it surgically removed, depending on how big it is and how deeply rooted it is in my body."

"Don't give me any of your lip, Edward."

"Then don't get into my personal life." He threw the door open and slammed it in the older man's face. He threw the shopping bag on his bed. He then pulled off his tops, and look over his shoulder. Etched on his shoulder blade was a blood red tattoo of a cross with a serpent twisting around it. He reached inside his bag and pulled out a tube of ointment. Dabbing a small glob onto his finger, he rubbed it on his tattoo. The people at the parlor told him that his skin will peel and that he had to take care of it, the same with his piercing. Once he was finished he changed out completely into his sleeping clothes. He dug through the pockets of his jeans until he found a slip of paper folded in the back pocket. On it was an address, date, and time. James had given it to him before he left, and had invited him to a party that was later on in the week. He folded the paper back up and put it back where it belonged. After setting the alarm clock, Edward pulled the covers over himself and settled down for the night.

He hoped that his luck would save him tonight. Unfortunately, for tonight his luck ran out.

_

* * *

He was a surrounded by a bright white and yellow light. Hope filled him. It gave him confidence. He became optimistic. This will work. It has to. Soon he would see her smiling face, and they would be a family again. All their hard work, and research was about to pay off. However, it was never meant to be._

_Humans were never meant to play God._

_The white turned to black, yellow into purple, and his joy into fear. It was dark all around him. An eerie hissing wind permeated the alchemic thick air. He did not understand. What was happening?_

"_Brother, something's wrong," said a frightened voice next to him._

_Then there was a scream. Right before his eyes he saw the only family he had being decomposed by pitch black hands. His brother's arm was already completely broken down, and moving to other parts of his body, by the very same alchemy that they had cherished and now had abused._

"_AL!" he called, but when he tried to move he could not. He looked down in horror as he saw his leg being taken from him by the same hands that were taking his brother._

"_Ed! Help me! ED! PLEASE!" came a frantic and fear stricken plea. He looked up and saw the hands were pulling and dragging him away into a bright white light._

_It was taking his brother away._

"_AL!!" he screamed, and he pushed his fear aside._

_He had to save him, no matter what the cost was. He had to reach out for the hand that was reaching back. His efforts were for nothing. The hand that was trying to grasp for his help, his protection, decomposed into its basic components and disappeared. Shortly thereafter, he was also surrounded too by the light._

"_I'll show you the Truth."_

_The sound quieted and the lights dimmed. It was all quiet and dark in the Elric household. No one outside would have guessed what had transpired in the home. Only the walls could tell the horrific story. The alchemic energy died down. The pain set in. He shrieked in agony as his nerves where set ablaze. Blood pulsed rhythmically out of his stump of a leg. He pitched forward, but caught himself before he hit the floor. He reached down and clutched the place where his leg should be. He whimpered as he swung his head around, searching for a person that was not there anymore. The only proof that Al had ever existed were the clothes that had floated to the ground._

"_Al! Alphonse! ALPHONSE!!" he cried, but his brother was not there to answer back. He was taken from him. "Damn! DAMN! How could this have happened!?" Tears pooled in his eyes, and fell down his face. A peel of thunder sounded outside. He began to drag himself to where his brother once was. _

"_It…It wasn't supposed to be like this… Oh no… He's gone!" He collapsed down to the floor. He did not have the strength or the will to keep himself up. There was a wheezing sound coming from the circle. He craned his head up to see if it was who he thought it was._

"_Mom?" he asked as the last of the energy from the transmutation arced through the air and ground like electricity. Could it be? Did it really work? Was it really her?_

_The alchemic fog cleared away. It was gruesome sight to behold. There was something there, but it was not his mother. _

_Hollow eyes stared back into his. Its abdomen was either turned inside out, or the organs grew on the outside, he did not know which. Its legs were nothing but skin and bones, and bent at disturbing angles. He could see its heart beat in an unnatural fashion. With each wheezing breath of air it took, its whole body shook with effort, as if each gasp for life were painful. There was an arm sticking up in the air, and it was reaching, reaching for him._

_He pushed himself as far away from the thing as he could. His back thumped into a wall. It was still reaching for him, coming closer, even though it could not move from its spot. He clutched his head in between his hands as his whole body shook from head to toe._

"_Ed…Ed...ward…" the thing said in a hoarse choking voice. Its throat too shredded to speak properly. The body in front of him let out gargled cry, and blood shot up into the air like water from a geyser as it gave a hacking cough. Then the reaching arm keeled over with a soft _thump_. It's whole body relaxed, and did not move._

"_This can't be…" he whimpered softly. "No… This isn't…" He could not hold his sickness in anymore, and he vomited on the ground in front of him. "No… I didn't want this…"He was starting to get little headed now. He could not think straight. As long as he got his mother back, he would have been happy. Even if she yelled at him for sacrificing his only brother, even if she was angry at him for putting Alphonse in danger and not protecting him, he would have had his mother back. He would have been happy. Was that wrong of him? If the transmutation was successful, he could have used it to bring his brother back. The same way that he had resurrected their mother._

_However, life demanded that it would not work. He just had killed the two most significant people in his life. Most importantly, he had killed his own brother for his selfish goals._

"_Al…It's all my fault! My fault…" A new wave of determination surged through him. Alchemy had broken apart his family, now it was going to bring them back. Finding the closest rag, he tied it the end of his stumpy leg. He dragged himself to where the suits of armor stood, and knocked the closest one over. It fell to the ground with a resounding _dong_. He reached inside and drew a transmutation circle. He knew what he had to do. _

"_Give him back!" he snarled into the dead air. "That's my _brother_, damn you! I don't care what the toll is! Take my _other_ leg! Or my _arm_! Take _both_ of them! You can even have my heart." He held his hands up, stained with blood that he could never wash away._

"_JUST GIVE HIM BACK! HE'S THE ONLY FAMILY I HAVE!!" He clapped his hands together._

_Another crash of thunder rolled through the rain soaked night air._

* * *

There was an earsplitting scream that filled the house. Mustang awoke with a jolt. He instinctively reached for the gun that was hidden underneath his pillow. In one quick motion, he pulled the slide back, switched off the safety and held it out, ready to use. His heavy eyes scanned the room before him, but there was nothing. He was sure that he had heard a scream. He blinked owlishly as his mind tried to catch up with his body. Another scream echoed through out the building, and he jumped out of bed. His mind registered that it was Edward. He ran out of his room and flung the door open. Gun held out in front of him, ready to fire if the need be, Roy searched the room quickly, but there was no one there. He blinked owlishly again. He had to clap his hands over his ears as another eardrum bursting shriek ripped itself out of Edward's throat.

_A nightmare,_ thought Roy, a little relieved that it was not a home invader. He quickly went to Ed's side as he flipped the safety back on and placed the handgun on the bedside table next to the alarm clock. The blond was thrashing underneath the sheets. He gripped Ed's shoulders and gently shook him.

"Edward, wake up. It's just a nightmare," he said. His voice was drowned out by another scream that was followed by a whimper. "Wake up, Edward!" He shook him a bit harder. A metal hand collided with his jaw. He fell back and rubbed his jaw.

"Give him back," whimpered Ed. "Give him back…" Roy grabbed him again, and shook him roughly as he tried to break the spell that the nightmare had over its victim.

"Edward, wake up! It's just a dream! Come on, wake up." Edward's eyes snapped open. Roy was filled with relief that he had woken up. However, Ed suddenly lunged forward and tackled the older man. He slid off the mattress, and onto the floor with the teen on top of him. One metal and one flesh hand found their way to his throat. Fingers coiled around him and crushed his windpipe closed.

Roy gasped, but air did not fill his lungs. He was being strangled to death as a pair of hate filled eyes stared back into his.

"Edward," he wheezed. That was all he could say before fingers tightened their hold around his neck. A gargled sound escaped his lips. He tried again to fill his burning lungs, but the air never passed the hands.

"Give him back!" seethed Ed above him. "Give him back. He's the only family I have!"

_How can Ed still be dreaming?_ thought Roy. He was getting light headed, and his vision became foggy. He brought one hand up to the boy's face and placed it on his cheek before he pulled it away, and slapped him across the face quickly.

Golden eyes blinked furiously for a second.

"What—" Ed started but his shoulder was grabbed roughly. Roy's grip was weakening, and he let the hand fall to the ground. His vision was failing, his brain felt light, and his eyelids were heavy. He saw his whole life flash before his eyes. Everything that he had done and achieved played out like a movie that was stuck on fast forward.

"Oh, no," said Ed, and he let go of the man's throat. Roy felt the breath of life fill his aching lungs, and started coughing. Ed got off of him, and he curled up on his side as he took in the sweet air that he would never take for granted ever again. Taking in slow and deep breaths, he sat up and leaned against the bed. His black eyes searched for Ed and found him on the far wall with his knees pulled to his chest, and his head buried in his arms. Once he had his breathing under control, he stood and slowly made his way to where Ed was.

"Are you okay, Edward?" asked Roy tenderly. The small body tensed, and the head pulled itself out of its hiding spot.

"Why are you here?"

"I was—" started Mustang, but a sharp voice cut him off.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Are you deaf? I said get out!" Edward thrust a finger in the direction of the door. Roy shrugged. Edward was just going to be Edward. He retrieved his gun from the little table.

"You know, it's okay to cry in front of others. It's okay to show weakness to some people." Ed appeared to be on the verge of tears.

"Out!" roared Ed. Roy sighed as he walked to the door. He had his hand on the handle when he turned back.

"One day Edward all of those emotions that you are bottling up inside are going to break out, and when you look for a shoulder to cry on, I won't be there. Because you will have pushed me too far away for me to reach for you. Then you'll have no one to blame but yourself." With that the door closed.

Edward curled himself into a ball. His whole body trembled.

_Edward, _said a voice. It was not the velvet voice that he had grown use to. It was feminine and motherly. A voice that should be feared. Shakily, he looked up and saw a pair of legs standing before him. He tilted his head up, eyes following up the body, to a face with such a tender and motherly expression. She smiled down at him as blood pour out between a pair of mocking lips.

_Edward, why didn't you fix me?_ she said_._ _Why did you turn me into a monster?_ The figure before him fell to the floor and began to cry out in pain as its whole body was being ripped apart and turned inside out. It morphed into the thing that he had created seven years ago on that stormy night.

"No, no, not again," whimpered Ed as he clutched his head. He slammed his eyes shut, but the image was burned on the back of his eyelids.

_Why did you kill me?_

His sobs poured out like mad into the empty room.

* * *

I hope you have enjoyed the latest installment of Deus Ex Machina. I'll have the next chapter out as soon as I can. Please review because I want to know what everyone thinks of it! So please review! Love you! Night!


	7. Escape

Hey everyone! How are you doing? I'm sorry that it took so long to put this up. I go really sick for an entire week, and I couldn't do anything... I'm sorry! Please forgive me! Please don't be mad!

I was hoping that I could post this chapter up with an oneshot that I was writing, but nothing ever goes as planned...-sigh- So I decided to post this up and then post up the oneshot at a later date. It also took me awhile to write because I was not in the mood to write it. When you write something you have to be in the mood to write if. If I'm not in the mood to write it, I won't enjoy writing it and then my readers won't enjoy reading it. Writing takes a lot of work to make it good!

**NEWS PLEASE READ!**: On my profile I have started to post up story updates! So if you want to see how your favorite story is progressing than go to my profile and look under "Story updates" and then look up your story. There you can see how much I've done, if there is hold up, if it got posted up yet, and get the latest info on any story that I am currently writing. It will all be there. You'll also see updates for other stories and oneshots so you can check those out and see if they catch your interest.

ALSO here's a question that I want to ask you my readers: Do you think I should write a Twilight fic? I have this idea for one, but I am not sure. So what do you think? Should I write a Twilight fic or not? Put your answer in a review.

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or Phoenix Wright. They belong to their creators and that's not me!

Rating: M for mature audiences

Warnings: language, angst, cutting, thoughts of suicide, etc.

I hope you have reading this!

* * *

Chapter 7

Escape

"Viewing the child solely as an immature person is a way of escaping comforting him." --Clark Moustakas

* * *

"Dammit, Edward!" exclaimed Roy the next morning. "Why did you do this?" He grabbed Ed's wrist and held it up. This morning he found fresh cuts on the teen's skin. "You knew that I would be checking you, so why?" Edward glared at him through his bangs.

"Why? Fuck you, that's why," hissed Ed. His face displayed indifference despite his tone.

"Don't talk back to me!" shot Roy.

"I can talk to you how ever I want!" shot back Ed. At that moment the doorbell rang. Roy swore under his breath.

"Get dressed, or else we'll be late," said Roy. He was already dressed in his uniform and ready to go. Edward, on the other hand, was still in his pajamas. Ed turned on his heel and stormed off. The bell rang again. Riza gave Roy a sour look when he answered the door.

"I'm sorry," he said to her. "Fullmetal is being difficult this morning."

"Why? What happened?" she asked as she entered the threshold. He closed the door behind her. He explained to her what had happened last night in as few words as possible.

Her brow puckered and she said, "I see." Ed rounded the corner.

"Let's go," he said. Both of the adults were stunned and at a loss for words. Ed was not wearing his usual outfit. It was not the tight shirt that got them, but the pants. His pants were tight around the hips and flared out at the feet. They had chains crisscrossing in the back, and massive pockets and zippers were everywhere.

After recovering from the initial shock, Mustang said, "You are not wearing those."

"Why?" asked Ed.

"It's not professional," answered Hawkeye. "You got away with wearing your other outfit because you are always in the field and on missions. No one is going to approve of…_this_." She waved her hand to indicate his clothes.

"Well, we're going to be late. So let's move on," said Ed, who was not easily deterred.

"Change into your other clothes," Roy said.

"But—" started Ed.

"Either that, or you can wear the uniform that you're supposed to wear. The choice is yours." The blond boy shrugged and moved lethargically back up the stairs. Roy called after him, "And take that piercing out of your ear." He groaned. He had never thought that Fullmetal could be this difficult, and it was the morning too.

"Roy, he's just being a normal teenager. You and I have acted out and rebelled against our parents too, you know."

"But he's not a normal teenager. He's cutting himself, and trying to commit suicide. He's done many things, and been in the military for most of his life. He's anything but normal."

"If you are having trouble, you know you can ask," said Hawkeye with a frown on her face.

Ed came back in his regular clothes, and a band-aid covered the stud in his earlobe.

"Can we go now?" he asked.

"Yes," said Roy, and they all went to work. At the base, Ed got out and started to head to the library when the Colonel's hand grabbed his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he questioned.

"You have broken the rules, Fullmetal," said Roy with a smirk "And now you have to pay the consequences. You are prohibited from going to the library, and you must spend the whole day with me in the office, until I say otherwise."

"What?" yelled Edward. "You can't do that!"

"I just did," stated Mustang. "Start walking." He pushed the boy in the direction of the office building and gave him a nudge. Ed growled at him like a dog and dragged his feet all the way. Once in the room, Hawkeye gave him his work, and Mustang his. Soon the other members of the Colonel's team arrived for the day. Ed sat at his desk in the corner, signing the papers that needed his signature and sulking. It was like Mustang had taken away his favorite toy, and it had put him a foul mood. He shot a glare in the Colonel's direction, and silently cursed the man to the fiery pits of Hades. He was prepared to give the man the silent treatment for the rest of the day.

Roy noticed the glares that he received from Edward. The boy could glare and hate him all he wanted, but Roy was going to stand by his punishment. He did his best not to pay attention to the glares. Lunch came and went (Fullmetal once again ate not even half of his meal), and so did the evening. The boy was sulking, and needed to get over it.

Mustang was talking to Havoc when…

"Whoa, check this out. There's this girl wailing on the guard," said Havoc. He was staring out of the window behind Mustang's desk. Fuery and Breda went to see what was going on.

"Wow, you're right. Look at her go," said Breda.

"Poor guy," added Fuery. "I wonder what she's yelling at him about."

"Did she really just stomp her foot?" asked Havoc. "Hey, Colonel, you should see this."

"I have work that I need to do. I don't have time to watch a girl yell at a guard," said Mustang.

"Or else the Lieutenant will murder you," teased Breda.

"Speaking of murder," said Hawkeye. There was an ominous metal click.

The phone rang, saving Breda from a grizzly fate.

"Colonel Mustang's office," she said crisply. She waited. "Yes, he's here. May I ask what the nature of the call is?" She was quiet for a second then she said, "I understand. Edward? Phone." She held it out for him. He crossed the room, wondering who would want to speak to him. He put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he said.

"Major Elric?" said a shaken voice on the other end.

"Yes?" he replied.

"There is a woman at the front gate who claims that she knows you, and that she has an appointment with you."

"That depends, who is she?" He heard another voice.

"Edo! This guy is being a jerk!" yelled the other voice.

"Ah, it's alright, send her up."

"But sir, she has some kind of device that has to be inspected before it can enter the premises."

"Let me tell you something," said Ed in a low and lethal voice, letting his bad mood out on the already abused man. "You are talking to someone who can rip out your spine with his bare hands and bludgeon you to death with it. Do I really need to come down there and straighten this out?"

"N-n-no, sir," stuttered the guard on the other end. "I'll escort her."

"Good. Now, I highly recommend that you carry that device for her."

"Yes, sir."

"Lift with your legs," said Ed and he hung up. Hawkeye gave him a disapproving look. She was the only one who heard his conversation. "What?" He gave her an innocent look, and she rolled her eyes at him. He was feeling better, as his mood had slightly improved.

"She's coming in. I wonder who she's here to see?" said Fuery.

"I don't know. She's kind of feisty. Just your type, isn't it Colonel?" joked Havoc.

"I do like a challenge," said Mustang with a smirk.

"Especially in bed," added in Breda.

"Yes, especially in bed," The three of them started snickering.

"Are you done with your work, sir?" asked Hawkeye from her desk. She pulled out her gun and casually looked it over. A jolt went through Roy. He hunched over his desk and started to write furiously on the sheets of paper. "What about your work, Havoc, Fuery, and Breda?" Riza unfolded a napkin and retrieved a cleaning kit from one of her desk drawers. They jumped and bolted back to their desks. There was the thumping sound of footfalls coming from the hall.

"What's that?" asked Breda.

"I believe that is sound." said Falman. He switched to dictionary mode. "Sound. Noun. A mechanical radiant energy that is transmitted by longitudinal—"

"Thank you Warrant Officer Falman," said Hawkeye. The door burst open.

"Edo!" someone squealed excitedly. Ed only managed to turn himself halfway around when he saw something purple rush towards him and tackle him to the ground. Instinctively, one of his arms wrapped around the body that had slammed into him, and the other reached out behind him to break his fall. He grunted when he hit the floor.

"Edo! I missed you," squealed Maya. He felt her nuzzle her face into his neck and press her body against his. He blushed as his body started to react to this unintended intimate contact.

"Nice to see you too, Maya," said Ed. There was faint click, and then a bright flash. He slowly turned his head, and saw Havoc with a camera in his hands, taking pictures of them as everyone else stared

"You two look cute together," said Havoc as he snapped another photo. Maya sat up and Ed was allowed to push himself up, but she still sat in his lap. There was another flash from the camera, and he realized that his arm was still around Maya. He pulled it away and cleared his throat.

"So, how have you been?" he said conversationally.

"I've been good," she said with a smile. She stood up and straightened out her robes. He rose to his feet as well. "Nick is working on a new case, but I can't tell you about it because we haven't gone to trial yet." Then she had a pout on her face. "That guard was a mean jerk. He didn't believe me when I told him that I knew you. He thought I was some crazy person trying to get in. Oh, if he hadn't called you, I would have knocked his block off." She balled her fists and held them up as if she were boxing.

"You were going to take on someone who was twice your size and weight," said Ed. It was more of a statement then a question.

"Yes I was." She puffed up proudly. "I was going to hit him with my right hook, and when he was down I was going to grab the television and run up here. Speaking of guards, where is he? He has my TV, and if he doesn't hurry we'll miss the show." Right on cue a man stepped through the door, carrying the huge TV set that normally sat at the Wright & Co. office.

"Here you go Miss. Have a nice day," he panted, and hobbled off with a hand on his lower back.

"Yay!" exclaimed Maya enthusiastically. "Just in time too. The show will start in few minutes. We have to set it up."

"You can't watch a television in here," interjected Hawkeye. "This is a place of work, not recreation. If you want to watch your show you need to go somewhere else."

"Oh, okay," said Maya gloomily. Her shoulders slumped, her lips pouted, and her eyes looked glossy. The waterworks were about to start. The one thing that scared Edward the most was a girl crying. He never knew how to handle it. Sure, Winry did break down a few times in front of him, but he could never comfort her. Alphonse was better at that then he was. He always knew the right things to say to her to make her feel better.

Ed felt a spasm of pain rip through his heart as he thought about Winry. He loved her, but she belonged to Al, not to him. She hated him, and there was nothing that he could do to change that.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," said Maya forlornly. She reached out and took one of his hands in both of hers. "I'll see you later then, Edo." She eyed the TV set for second before she tilted it and tried to pick it up. She lost her grip and it fell back to the floor with a loud _thunk_. Ed sighed.

"Let me help you," said Ed. He picked it up easily, thanks to his automail arm. "Follow me." He turned down the hall, and went to a door at the end. "Open that." She did as she was told. The door showed an empty office. Once they were in, he kicked the door closed, went to the nearest desk, and set the television on it. She looked at him, a little confused.

"Technically, we are somewhere else," he said as he plugged the TV into a wall outlet. A smile brightened her face and she pulled out the antenna from a sleeve of her robes. He set it up, with a few adjustments to the rabbit ears, and they were ready. Maya grabbed two chairs, flipped on the set, and began to enjoy the show.

The black screen turned into a black and white picture show. There was a wood flute playing in the background as the title of the show faded into view.

_The Pink Princess. _it read. Then someone spoke out from the speakers.

"Previously on The Pink Princess." it said, and then the highlights from the last two episodes played across the screen. The voice said, "And now the exciting conclusion of The Pink Princess. Episode Sixty-Seven: The Curse of the Blue Rose part three. Staring Kate Min as the Pink Princess…" The credits rolled on as the voice introduced each main character, and the actor who played them. For a children's show, it was not bad. It was actually good.

During the show, Maya cheered for the hero and yelled at the villain while he sat quietly and watched. When it was over, they flipped it off and took the TV apart. The antenna went back up Maya's sleeve.

"That was an awesome episode. That Spinning Slash Surge the Pink Princess did was so cool!" She glowed with awe.

"Maya, can you pass me that trash can?" asked Ed, indicating a small metal waste bin.

"Okay, but why?" she replied as she handed the item over to him. He weighed the bin in his hand, and then chucked it with all of his might at the door, which happened to be slightly ajar. There was a yelp on the other side as the metal projectile clanged against the door.

"You are the worst spy ever, Havoc!" he bellowed at the door, and Maya giggled with an amused look on her face. She then jumped Ed from behind, causing her friend to stumble forward a bit to catch his balance. Her thin arms quickly wrapped around him, and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thanks for letting me watch my show here," she said in a slightly muffled voice.

"Um, you're welcome," Edward muttered, a little uncomfortable. It was nothing against Maya, she was a great person. She was so full of energy and enthusiasm, always lending a helping hand to anyone even though that help might turn disastrous. She was like a child, really, but when the going got tough she would deal with the situation maturely. It would truly break anyone's heart to see her cry. Older men were weak against her teary eyes. All of this rolled together made Maya the spirit medium in training. However, Ed could not shake the other image that she unknowingly carried. The other person that seemed to shadow her every step to remind him of what he had lost. She just reminded him too much of Winry.

She let go of him and he straightened his clothes to give his hands something do. Yet, his mind was still free to imagine a blonde girl with azure eyes. Edward cleared his throat.

"So when is Phoenix supposed to pick you up?" he asked.

"He said he would come and get me when my show was done," she muttered thoughtfully. He nodded.

"I'll carry your television down for you," he said. He angled the huge machine at the right angle against his body, and carefully scooted it off of the desk. The thing was heavy but he had his automail, so it was not too bad. He maneuvered himself carefully down the stairs with Maya close beside him just in case the TV decided that it would like to take a trip down the stairs without Edward's help. Eventually they made it outside and to the gate. Beyond, Wright was leaned against his car in his usual blue suit. Maya hurried ahead of Ed to push open the gate for him as Phoenix pulled on the top end, so they could share the weight of the box. Once they had it in the car, the attorney patted him on the back.

"Sorry Ed," said the man. "I would have been up sooner to help you but I wasn't allowed in, even when I showed them my badge." He gave the younger man an apologetic look.

"Nah, it's fine," said Ed apathetically with a shrug.

"So, did you two have fun?" asked Phoenix brightly.

"Yes!" chirped Maya happily. "Having to carry it all the way here was worth it."

"You carried it all the way here?" said Ed incredulously. She gave him an innocent expression.

"Yeah," she said in a little confused voice that suggested that people did it all the time "From the office to here." Ed did the math in his head. The office was clear on the far side of the city, and Headquarters was roughly in the middle. To get from HQ to the Wright and Co. Offices was well over a thirty minute walk. Since Maya had to drag the television, the amount of time to walk that distance would have doubled. Now, if he rounded the distance from one end of the city to the other to the nearest whole number then split it in half, he would get…

"You walked twelve miles for over an hour carrying the TV?" asked Ed. Was this woman crazy or something? What sane person would carry a thirty pound box over that great of a distance?

_A determined crazy person,_ thought Ed.

"Well," she said nervously as she folded her hands in front of her. "I didn't leave on time, and when I realized that was going to be late, I called a cab. They picked me up and dropped me off here. I would have got here earlier if the guard didn't stop me."

"Maya, you could've waited for me," groaned Wright.

"I didn't want to miss the show," she muttered a little shyly. Both men gave her an exasperated sigh.

"We need to get going. We were supposed to meet Detective Gumshoe at the station," the attorney said as he patted the petite alchemist on the shoulder. "See you around?" Ed nodded at him.

"Yeah, see you," he said and then both Phoenix and Maya left. Ed shivered slightly and he silently cursed the October air. The cold air made his automail ports hurt, and if he was not careful, he would get frostbite. No matter how much he hated the cold weather, it was only going to get colder, just to spite him. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he shivered again. He did not want to go back upstairs. He had already seen enough of Mustang's smug face for one day, and he was cramped in that room. Honestly, how could the Colonel stand being in that tiny room all day? He stretched his limbs a little while he contemplated, then suddenly yawned.

_Might as well go back to the Colonel's place,_ he thought glumly. Dragging his feet, he made the journey back to Mustang's house. Ed was grateful that it was not too far away. If it was, he would have stayed at Headquarters, or would have asked Havoc to drive him. When he got there, it suddenly dawned on him that he did not have a key. He clapped his hands together, feeling the all too familiar surge of energy coursing through his body, and touched the doorknob. He felt the lock melt, shift, and warp into the desired shape. He swung the door open, and changed the lock back into its original form.

He yawned again, as he was thoroughly exhausted, courtesy of his countless sleepless nights. He made the living dead look like beauty queens. He pulled his coat and boots off and shuffled through the house. He brought down a pillow and blanket from his room and piled them up on the couch. After some scrounging, he managed to find a box of matches and some old newspapers. Kneeling before the fireplace, he scrapped the phosphorus tip of the wooden match against the sandpaper box. There were sparks, a hiss, and a flame was born. He wadded up a newspaper page with one hand, lit it on fire, and placed it carefully under the logs. It was soon followed by a second burning piece of paper. His constricted metal joints creaked and groaned in protest of his movements.

"Shut up," he muttered. Carefully prodding the tiny blaze here and there, it turned into a roaring fire. He pulled metal chain-link curtains across the opening, and heaved himself back to the couch. Edward settled himself under the blankets. It was comfortable. The gentle crackling of the fire was a lullaby to his ears, reminding him of simpler and happier days. He fell asleep curled up under a warm blanket with the fire singing him his song.

* * *

"Doesn't that boy have any respect for authority?" fumed Mustang. He could not turn his back on that annoying shrimp for one second, or else he would go running off.

"I know, sir. I don't like it either," said Hawkeye in a disgruntled voice. There were both in the car. After Fullmetal did not come back for an extended time, they both dropped what they were doing to go look for him. They have already searched the park, Central Library, Edward's vacant apartment, and now they were running out of ideas.

"Where could he be!?" Roy hissed. Saying he was annoyed was an understatement. He was pissed. Riza suddenly got an idea.

"The last place you look," she said. The car slowed to a stop at a red light.

"What are you talking about? The last place we looked was his apartment." She twisted her head to face him.

"Think about it, where is the last place that we would look for Ed?" she asked her dark eyed companion. He thought about it for second.

"My house," he answered. She gave him her all knowing look.

"Always in the last place you look." She stomped down on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward. She spun it in the direction of Mustang's home and sped down the roads. When they reached their destination, the Lieutenant slid the car into his driveway, and turned it off. They both got out and entered the building. It was warm inside. They saw orange light dance along the walls, heard the snapping crackle of the fire in the hearth. Roy saw a lump on his sofa that was breathing. He was considering on whether or not to give the boy personal violence as Riza strode past him and knelt down next to the sleeping body.

Slowly she raised her hand and gingerly pulled back the covers. Edward's golden head emerged from the cotton cocoon. A tender smile pulled at her lips as Roy stood behind her.

"He was here the whole time while we were running around the city?" ridiculed the Colonel.

"Shhh!" snapped Riza. Ed groaned, rolled over into a more comfortable position, buried his face further into the pillow, and snoozed on. "Whisper," she murmured softly.

"I swear this bean sprout is going to drive me up a wall!" whispered Mustang loudly.

"Not…a…bean…" muttered Ed. He lifted an arm and threw it in Roy's direction, but it fell lazily to the floor. Edward slept on, completely unaware of his subconscious reflex. Riza picked up his arm and tucked it back in place. She smiled affectionately at the resting boy again.

"Let him sleep. He must be tired," whispered Hawkeye.

"If he was tired he should have slept at the office like any normal person." He caught a murderous glared from the blonde woman. "Of course that would irresponsible. Work must be done, and there is no time to sleep," he quickly amended. She smirked his smirk at him, and went to the kitchen. Roy stayed in the living room. He eyed the sleeping alchemist. He wanted to murder Edward for making him run around the city like that, but he guessed that the squirt could rest for awhile. He would drag him over the coals later. Now was the time to plot.

A malicious smiled formed on his lips as he thought of different ways to barbeque shrimp. He heard soft groaning, and saw that it was coming from Ed.

_Is he hot or having a nightmare again?_ questioned Roy. He hoped it was not the later. Riza would flip if she heard him scream. He bent over the boy and noticed that there was a fine film of sweat covering his tanned skin. The Colonel snapped his fingers, and Edward flinched slightly at the sound.

The fire fluctuated within the metal and stone hearth as it suffocated. It flickered weakly as it searched for the oxygen it needed to survive, but it was all for naught and then, with the gentlest of whispers, it roared out of existence. Not even ruby ashes were left on the blackened wood. Roy then rolled the edge of the blanket down until it hung around Ed's waist, but the teen still panted as if he where sick. He rolled over onto his back and started muttering. His lips moved softly but quickly; his eyes darted from side to side underneath the thin layers of skin that were his eyelids.

_Nightmare,_ thought the inky black haired man wearily. Last time Roy tried to wake Ed from a nightmare, he had tried to choke him. He remembered hearing that people could manipulate the dreams of others just by talking to them in their sleep. It reminded him of those learning tapes that people listened to in their sleep, maybe the same principle applied. It was worth a shot. Roy knelt down next to Ed's head. The boy's muttering started to get louder, his body began to jerk and tremble, his face knotted into misery and fear, and a tear escaped down his face.

Roy put his mouth next to his ear, and said in the gentlest and softest voice that he could muster, "It's okay. You are fine. There is nothing that is going to hurt you. You're okay. Nothing will harm you. You're safe."

This was ridiculous. He felt stupid. There was no way that he could pull this off. It was going to be a repeat of last night. The only difference was that this time, Hawkeye was here.

The muttering quieted down into murmurs, and Ed's face detangled itself. It astonished Roy. It was actually working. The sleeping boy's face started to contort again into fear, and Roy leaned back in. He continued to say soothing words in Ed's ear until everything stopped and Edward was back to blissfully dreaming. Roy sighed with relief. The disaster was averted, for now.

"I think you would be a great father," said a voice softly behind him. He had a heart attack. He had forgotten that Riza was still here. In one hand she held a glass of brandy on the rocks for him and in the other green tea for her.

"How much did you—" he trailed off at the end.

"Everything." she said as she handed him his drink. She sat down on the couch on the opposite side of the room, and Roy joined her. "That was very kind of you, Roy."

"You weren't there the last time." He took a sip of his drink. This was what he really needed after his day. He swirled the ocher colored alcohol in his glass, and the ice tinkled gently against the sides. He took another sip.

"No, I wasn't." She drank her tea. "Still, I believe that you could be a great father one day." He shook his head.

"No, I wouldn't. I'm not good with babies. That was Maes, not me. I'm just the swinging bachelor." He took a gulp of his drink.

"You never know." They both sat on his sofa in a comfortable silence. Both were watching Edward sleep, but he started stirring. Soon he woke up in a daze. His head was foggy and confused. Where did his fire go?

"Good morning, Fullmetal," said Mustang as he finished off his drink. "Did you sleep well?" Ed looked at him blankly, and Roy smirked. "You're not usually this confused when you wake up." Butterscotch eyes glared at him with fiery passion.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ed growled.

"This is my home. I live here, the last time I checked," Roy said plainly.

"You know what I mean." Onyx eyes narrowed.

"After you left with your girlfriend—" he started but Ed interrupted him.

"She's not my girlfriend!" yelled Ed. Roy waited and the silence dragged. It was almost eerie like the calm before a storm.

"Are you finished?" said Roy in a sarcastic tone. "Because I don't want my story to interrupt you."

"Roy," buffed Riza at his side.

"When you didn't come back, we went out to find you. We looked everywhere for you, and here you were taking a nap!" His original anger surfaced again. "Did you have any idea what you put us through? We didn't know if you where kidnapped, killed, beaten or what! Then Hawkeye had the bright idea that you were here. I was this close to calling an official search for your ungrateful ass. Would it have killed you to tell me where you were going, you thankless brat?"

"Roy, settle down," said the woman again. She did not like where this was going. Each word that Roy had said felt like a nail being driven into Ed. He felt like the wood that a carpenter would hammer nails into, each one leaving its own hole behind when it gets pulled out. He felt the holes that each word left behind. He knew that he should feel sorry for putting his superior through that, but he was too wounded right now to feel that. So he responded the only way he that he knew how, with anger. Anger was the only emotion he knew that he could hide behind without his true feelings or thoughts being discovered. Anger was his best and only friend.

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm such an inconvenience to you," said Ed harshly, just enough to hide the slight hurt in his voice. "Maybe next time that I try to kill myself, you should just then let me die. That way I would never bother you again, and you can go on living your happy little life trouble-free." He threw the blanket off of him, ran up the stairs to his room, and slammed his door shut. Mustang was right behind him. He grabbed the handle and twisted it, but it did not open. He then beat his fist on the door.

"I not finished with you!" yelled the man through the door. "Open this door right now!" Riza grabbed his arm and forcibly yanked him away.

"It's over, Roy," said Riza sternly. "You've done enough damage."

"But he—" started Roy but was stifled by a dirty look.

"Enough," she said with a hard look. Then she whipped out, "You've won, are you happy?" He understood were she was heading and he groaned.

"No." He looked back at the door that separated him from Edward.

"Look, you've never taken care of someone, and he's never been taken care of. Both of you are new at this. It will take some time for you two to get used to it, and when that time comes, I'm sure he'll open up to you." He could not find a single flaw in her logic.

"Time, right."

"Yes," She nodded at him, and they went back down the stairs. Riza said good-bye and left for her home. Roy flopped himself back down on his sofa and mulled over the events that had just occurred. He picked out things that he should not have said, and things that could have been said differently. He looked across the room to the blanket and pillow that still lay on his couch. After much thought, he stood grabbed the items, and went to Ed's room. He paused outside of the door then raised his hand and rapped his knuckles on the wooden surface.

"Edward," Roy said gently. "May I come in? I just want to talk." There was no response. Of course, Fullmetal would not want to talk to him. What did he expect? Roy would have to try a different tactic to coax the boy out. "I'm sorry if I've upset you. I was just angry and…and worried about you." There, he said it. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. Can I talk to you?" No sound came from the room. "Edward?" Nothing. "Edward, can you hear me?" Still nothing. "Are you okay? Edward?" All was quiet, and he started to panic. Did something happen? Did he pass out? Roy grabbed the handle, and tried to open the door again, but the wood was fused to the frame.

"I'm coming in!" he yelled. He stepped back a few paces, raised his foot into the air, and delivered a vicious kick to the door. It creaked at him in response. He kicked it again, and the wooden barrier gave way. It shot open and bounced against the wall, but Roy caught it before it slammed back in his face.

"Edward, are you— God fucking dammit!" bellowed Roy. Now he knew why it was so quiet, and why he never got an answer.

The window was flung wide open, and Edward was gone.

* * *

There you go! I hope that you have enjoyed this installment of Deus Ex Machina! Please review; I want to know what you guys think of it! Once again, check out my profile for story updates which give you the latest info on your favorite stories and oneshots! Hope to see you again!


	8. Party

Hey everyone! Here's chapter 8! I'm sorry that it took forever to post up, but I hope you forgive me! A lot of stuff happened and here are just a few things that happened to me: I had exams week, then it was my birthday, Christmas, then New Years, I wasn't feeling the vibe of the story, and I had to figure out which way the story was going to go. Originally I was going to do this a as yaoi, but I was like "Meeeeeh, I don't think I will make it a yaoi", and then I changed my mind back to making it yaoi because there is an important scene that will pop up in the later chapters so it has to be a yaoi....then the list goes on. Pick your favorite. But the biggest reason why this didn't get posted up sooner was because I had developed a several case of writer's block. It took a lot of effort to push through it, and here is my reward. A completed chapter. Good Lord, this story has over 42,000 words! This chapter will add an extra 7,000 words to it so now it will be about 49,000! That's a lot!

**Also check out the News section of my profile! It will tell you if anything is happening that will cause any story updates to be delayed, it will give you updates on the progress of the next chapter or oneshot, and it will also give you a brief preview of any other stories or oneshots that I will be writing so that you can see if you want to read it or not.**

**One more thing:** I have 2 oneshots that are going to be put up here soon. "A Day to Remember" and "The Soldier Side". I apologize to any and everyone that are waiting for those to be posted up, and I thank you for your patience. It is taking longer than I expected, but I swear that once I get them back I'll post them up the next day. Please just wait a little while longer! I am really really sorry about the delay T.T

Disclaimer: I don't in any way, shape, or form own Fullmetal Alchemist. It belongs to its creator who was brilliant in writing and creating the story. I also do not condone (or approve for those who do not know what it means) the use of narcotics or illegal drugs. Don't do drugs because they will mess you up.

Rating: M for mature audiences.

Warnings: this chapter contains swearing, adult situations and themes, yaoi, the use of drugs, peer pressure, dark themes-ish, and violence. You have been warned so don't come complaining to me about something you didn't like.

Now without further ado here's chapter 8! -claps her hands-

* * *

Chapter 8

Party

"Half of life is fucking up - the other half is dealing with it."—Henry Rollins

* * *

Edward slammed the door. He quickly clapped his hands together and transmuted the door to its frame. The knob turned and rattled, and then he heard a fist banging on the door,

"I'm not finished with you!" yelled Mustang through his wooden shield. "Open this door right now!"

Ed crouched over into a defensive posture, and he backed away from the door. If Mustang burst through his door, he would be ready to deck him. A snarl escaped from his throat. Ed heard a second voice, Hawkeye's, though he could not make out the words, and then it was quiet. He was still tense like a coiled snake. After a minute or two, he slowly relaxed, but remained on guard just in case his door spontaneously combusted.

The lithe bodied alchemist sank down onto his bed. His eyes scanned the scenery before him. He noticed his duffel bag, and pulled out his journal. He had been neglecting it for days. He rummaged around for a pen, flipped open his journal, and started to write.

_October 10_

_Mustang found out about me wanting to kill myself. I have no idea how that happened, but it did. Now I'm living with the bastard, and it's hell! Just now he tried to break into my room because I left work to go to sleep. I met this guy at a store that I went to yesterday named James, and he reminds me of the Colonel. He's a very strange person. Paid for my tattoo and piercing, so he's not that bad. Yet I got a weird feeling about him, but I don't know what it is._

He remembered the piece of paper that was given to him by James and pulled it out. The date printed on it was today's, and the time was not too far off from the present. He thought about it for a second before returning to his log.

_He invited me to a party, which is today. So I'm going to go to it. I'll have to sneak out because Mustang is right outside, and I'm locked in. Ah, the window! Bye._

He snapped the hardback shut, stashed it, and put on the new clothes that he had bought. Ed flung open his window and calculated the distance to the ground. He clapped his hands again and touched the side of the home. Wooden pegs shot out the outside wall and his ladder reached half way to the ground. He climbed out and down swiftly, not knowing if the makeshift rungs could support his weight for long. He dropped the rest of the way, transmuted his ladder back into the wall, and ran as fast as he could down the street. Once he was five blocks away, he slowed his pace down, and took out the crumpled paper. He looked at the address and headed in the direction of the party.

As he walked, Edward started to consider the different scenarios that might happen upon his return to the Mustang's home. Hopefully, he would be asleep, and Ed could sneak back in. If he was not, he would still hope that Mustang had not tried to go check up on him. If that had occurred while he was gone… He wondered idly how strong the Colonel was.

The metal chains on his pants clinked softly against each other as he strolled down the sidewalk. He never thought that the streets would be so crowded this late in the evening. The mass of citizens edged away from him and parted, allowing him to travel smoothly. The people he passed gave him apprehensive looks as they eyed his clothing and the piercing that was attached to his ear. He rather enjoyed the fear in some grim sort of fashion. One man who was trying to show off to his date, tripped and ran into Edward.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" said the man, obviously trying to pin his blunder on Edward.

"Fuck off," said Ed smoothly without looking back.

"You trying to be tough, you little punk?" shot back the guy. Ed stopped in his tracks, glanced over his shoulder, and gave the couple a dirty look.

"Scott, let's go," pleaded his girlfriend as she feebly pulled on the sleeve of his shirt. She visibly did not want to be anywhere near Edward. He looked too scary, with lips pressed into a hard fine line and his eyes both cold and dangerous.

"Trying to make me look bad in front of my girl?" yelled Scott brusquely. Many pedestrians stopped to watch, all secretly hoping that it would turn into a fight. "I could deck you in five seconds, you little freak." There was a crunching sound as a leather shoe collided violently with a nose. Edward had spun around, swung his leg into the air, and kicked the irritating man right in the face. Scott hit the ground and the girl yelped in shock. Ed slowly lowered his leg and took in the scene before him. The girlfriend was gingerly touching Scott's face. When her fingers found the break in his nose, he gave out a howl of agony.

"Have a nice evening," said Ed unsympathetically and he simply walked away. The crowd pressed themselves up against each other to give him room.

After turning down some streets, he asked someone for directions, and soon found himself in a deserted area. He could only hear the scraping sound of the cement under his feet. It was dark and quiet. This was not a neighborhood but a community. This place did not have the same friendly feel. The homes were not up against the street like the Colonel's; they were all hiding behind trees and driveway gates. He managed to catch a glimpse of one house between its trees. The front door was protected by a wrought iron gate, and the metal fence in the backyard displayed a sign that said "Watch Out for dog". Pulling out the note again, he started to count down the address numbers, and shortly thereafter it became unnecessary. He could hear music coming down the drive from the house that he stood in front of. The gate was already opened (hanging off of its rusty hinges), and he went in.

The small drive was surrounded by old neglected oaks and firs as it wound its way up to a large unkempt lawn. There were cars parked everywhere. The fountain that stood in the circular drive was cracked and broken with moss growing on the weather-beaten stone, and algae ran amok in the foul water at its feet. The house had ivy growing on its features that also wound up the stained pillars on the porch. The wood on the porch kept its form, but the white paint had been cracked and chipped off. The red paint on the walls of the home was sun-bleached, and most of the windows had been covered. There was large, oval window that was stained glass. It had planes of glass that were beautiful cherry red, forest green, ocean blue, and crystal clear. All the planes melded and shaped out a picture of a flower in water, and to hold it all together was a lead frame. However, there was a large jagged hole right in the middle of it as if someone threw a rock through it. In its golden years, this house must have been beautiful. It made him sad that it was broken and reduced to this.

Ed reached the door, but before he could knock, it opened. Music and light swarmed out of the portal as James grabbed him and yanked him in.

"Glad you could make it," yelled James over the music. "We were wondering if you would show up or not. Looks like I won the bet!" He laughed and tugged Edward away from the door. If Ed thought that the house used to be beautiful on the outside, the inside surely would have been gorgeous.

The inside was open and wide. A curving, dark-finished chestnut staircase took up one wall and the other opened up to a large parlor. The wallpaper had been ripped off, and the wood stained from what looked like drinks. The ceiling was high, supported by carved beams. The second floor overhung the first just enough to create a long balcony that went from the stairs to the wall that separated the parlor from the front room. A banister ran the length of the second floor balcony and was surprisingly still intact. Underneath the balcony's lip on the first floor was a pair of opened double doors. Beyond those, he saw flashing lights and a throng of people dancing. The parlor room had a large fireplace with a stone, most likely marble, mantle that had small statues and figurines chiseled into it. This too had been abused. In the center were three once-elegant couches surrounding a low coffee table, all covered in a thick sheet. In there some people had drifted away from the dance floor to make out with strangers that they would not even remember the next day.

Edward was pulled along by James towards the stairway. They ascended the flight of stairs to the second floor and down a hall. Ed could feel the bass through the floor. They passed by a few doors that were open, and inside there were more people dancing in a confusing tangle of bodies. All were pressed up against each other, just wanting to touch and be touched. Some doors were closed, but Ed could hear sounds of pleasure emanating from them. When they passed one room, he heard a loud shriek of bliss that made him blush. James looked over his shoulder and grinned at him.

"It's that kind of party," said James casually. He pushed Ed through a door, and it slammed shut behind them. They were in a bedroom with red painted walls and dark panels ran halfway up the four walls. The bed was canopied and had red and gold bed coverings. Adam sat in a cushioned wooden chair, and Jasmine was laying on her back with her arms behind her head on the large bed.

"I told you that he would come. Pay up," said James in cheerful voice. It was a little too cheerful. James glided over to Adam while holding an expectant hand out. Adam reached into his baggy pants and produced the wagered money.

"Whenever are you going to learn, Adam?" giggled Jasmine. She focused her eyes on them. Her eyes were scarlet, the natural eye color of the Ishbalans. "Never take a bet against James. He always wins." She giggled again and James giggled with her. Both of their eyes never stopped shifting. He floated to her and sat down on the floor with his back resting against the mattress. Edward stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at Jasmine. She was beautiful to him.

"Hey, someone's checking you out," singed James, grinning like an idiot.

"You like what you see, big boy?" teased Jasmine and she winked at him.

"Yes!" Ed said suddenly. "I mean no. I mean that I uh…I uh…" He started stammering like a fool, and he blushed with embarrassment. "What I meant to was that uh… that you look very attractive." His face grew even redder.

_Smooth move, Casanova._ thought Ed.

"Awww," sighed Jasmine, and she hopped up from the bed and went to him. She wrapped her arms around one of his. "He's so cute when he blushes." She poked his red tinted cheek. "He's adorable when he stutters like that, and he's such a gentleman. Can I keep him James? Please?" James laughed boisterously and Adam chuckled.

"Of course you can," said James with a highly amused look on his face. Jasmine smiled and wound her arms completely around Ed.

"So this is your first time?" said the rarely spoken Adam.

"First time for what?" asked Ed. Jasmine was petting him. Her russet fingers caressed his cheekbones where the blush still dusted his visage.

"Being at a party," said Adam. He was watching the Ishbalan girl fondly stroke Ed.

"Why do you say that?"asked Edward curiously, and Adam shrugged.

"You look anxious, a little edgy. Are you afraid that the military is going to bust through the door?"

"No," Edward was a little confused. Did he really look anxious? Well, now he was. If the military did indeed break through the door, and see a State Alchemist at _this_ kind of party. He would most likely have his license taken away and thrown out, or taken to court.

"Then there's nothing to be tense about."

"I know a way to help you relax," purred Jasmine in his ear. She grabbed his hand and tugged him to the bed. She gave him a hard shove and he fell back onto the bed. Before he had time to recover, she was on top of him, straddling his waist. She bent down and kissed him.

"And the lioness pounces on her prey!" hooted James as he pushed himself away from the bed.

Ed did not know what to do. He did not have an experience to fall back on, and he never allowed himself this kind pleasure of before. It was new and different. Then there was a spark. His hormones rushed through his system. He started to run on instinct.

He lifted his flesh hand, not wanting to hurt her with his metal hand, and wove his finger through her dark hair. He cradled the back of her head, and then pushed harder with his lips. Her lips parted slightly against his, and he took that as an invitation. His tongue shot out from his mouth and into hers. Jasmine's hands ran firmly down his chest, just to touch, to feel. It felt nice to be touched like this since he denied himself physical contact of any kind. It felt blissful to him. However, he was not the type of person to get involved with someone like this on a fling. That was the Colonel, not him. Edward pushed her away from him.

"You're good," hummed Jasmine. "I've got an idea with what we could do with those chains that you have on your pants." She licked her lips.

"I'm sorry but I can't do that," said Ed, "I'm not that guy." She smiled at him.

"That's okay."

"If that didn't work, how about something else?" suggested James with a euphoric smile on his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic baggie. He tossed it to Jasmine, who was still perched on top of Ed, and she held it above him.

"This will be perfect for you," she said gleefully. Inside the bag were some small red pills, all of them with a little "x" printed on them. Without being told, he knew that the pills were ecstasy. That would explain everything. The open behavior, the need to touch, the heightened levels of intimacy, the way that James' and Jasmine's eyes moved uncontrollably, the odd state of happiness that everyone was in…It explained everything.

"Are you guys all on this stuff?" asked Ed as he watched the bag above him swing from side to side.

"Nope!" said Jasmine. She tossed the pills into the air and caught them. "Adam isn't, almost everyone else at the party is." She opened the bag up and pulled out one of the cherry kissed ecstasy pills. "Would you like to try one?"

"No, I don't do drugs," he said uncomfortably.

"Don't worry, we won't tell," said James who sat down next to them on the bed. "Just try it. It will take the edge off, and make you feel happy. It's the greatest feeling that you'll ever have."

"I don't know," grumbled Ed. No one was really there to talk to him about drugs and peer pressure.

"For me, please?" asked Jasmine and she pouted at Edward.

He let out a sigh and said, "Alright." She smiled at him, and fed him the pill. They waited. The drug went to work quickly. The chemicals searched out for the right neurotransmitters and blocked them with their synthetic dopamine. Edward started to feel funny. He became oddly happy.

No, he was not happy. He was euphoric. Completely euphoric, which was a big deal to him.

All of his troubles and problems had washed away like footprints on a beach. He was truly carefree. All of his insecurities had vanished to be replaced, by complete and total inner peace. His senses intensified and his vision became slightly blurred. He became oblivious to his body's demands. The haze of stress was lifted as his mind became clear. He soon realized that he could not sit still. He had to move. He felt like he could run a marathon. He had so much energy. He wanted to reach out and touch someone.

* * *

"Ah, Edward," moaned Jasmine underneath him. Edward smiled in satisfaction.

They were all in Adam's van, and cruising down the road. Ed found out that the reason Adam was not high with the rest of them was because he was the designated driver for the party. The next time it would be James's turn at the wheel. If they did not do that, the local police or military would catch them.

Edward bit Jasmine again on her shoulder, and she moaned once more. She liked being bitten. James was in the front seat with Adam.

"You might need to power wash your car when you get home," chortled the doped up James. "There might be stains." Adam muttered something, but Ed did not hear. He was too busy with the new form entertainment that he had found. He never knew how fun this was. Now he knew why Mustang dated all of those women. Edward got a sudden idea.

He reached between his legs and undid the chains that crossed the back of them. Quickly clapping his hands, the chains glowed and brightened when he placed them on Jasmine's wrists. He forced her arms up, and the metal melded with the car door. The bright light of the reaction caught the attention of the other occupants.

"You can do alchemy?" asked James, bewildered. He was thoroughly surprised for the first time during the night. Ed was once again oblivious to him. Jasmine gave an experimental tug of the manacles, and they held firm.

"Oh, kinky," she slyly said. His lips found hers again. The car jerked to a stop.

"We're here," said Adam firmly; being completely obvious that he did not want a grope session happening in his car.

"Drive around the block some more!" yelled Jasmine at him as Edward kissed down her neck. His lips met her clavicle, and his teeth grazed her dark skin. A car door opened and slammed. The door at their feet slide open and someone grabbed Ed's ankle. There was a giggle.

"Come on Romeo," said James. "Stop shoving your tongue down her throat." He sighed, but he did not feel disappointed, thanks to the drugs pumping through his bloodstream.

"Five more minutes," said Ed.

"In that time Adam would've killed you," joked James. Edward groaned, and clapped his hands again. The shackles returned to their original form.

"To be continued," said Ed to Jasmine, and he was out the door. He stumbled a bit, and James laughed at him. The drugged up Edward giggled back. They it made halfway down the walkway before the front door of the house burst open, and out stormed a very cross Colonel Mustang.

"Where the hell have you been? Do you even know what time it is?" he yelled at the blond.

"Ooooh, you're in trouble," snickered James.

"And who the hell is this?" growled out Roy.

"Uh-oh," giggled Ed. "See you later, James." Edward pranced up to Mustang and threw his arms around him. "Hey Mustang, how've you been?" Roy was stunned by the boy's actions that for a moment he forgot that he was angry. "I'm thirsty, I'm going to get a drink." Ed let go and trotted into the house, and onward to the kitchen. Mustang was close behind him. The small alchemist was humming a merry tune as he filled up his glass.

"Are you okay, Fullmetal?" asked Roy carefully. Edward was in a strange state. He was so open and casual about everything.

"I'm better than okay." He took a huge gulp of water. Something was not sitting right with Mustang.

"Are you high?" he asked and the ecstasy ridden boy grinned at him.

"Yep," he responded simply, and Roy was in shock.

"On what?" sputtered the ebony man.

"Ecstasy. You want some?" Roy ignored the question.

"What?" He was immediately in front of Ed, checking him over. Edward's pupils were dilated, he was sweating, and when Roy placed his hand on his forehead he became very concerned. "You're burning up! We need to get your body temperature under control!" He dragged the boy up the stairs and into the master bathroom. "Get undressed." Roy flipped on the cold water tap. The water rushed through the pipes and began filling up the tub.

"Shouldn't we go on a date first?" ribbed Edward.

"Just do it." Roy hurried out of the room, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from his study, ran to the kitchen, and filled a large bowl with water. He drew a quick and simple circle, placed the filled bowl on top and activated the circle.

The atoms within the water molecules began to become sluggish in their movements. Soon they rearranged themselves into closer groups and were trapped. The water phased from its liquid form and into the solid form of ice. The atoms vibrated rapidly, waiting for the time when they could move freely again.

Roy ran back up the stairs. Ed had stripped completely down and was sitting on the toilet, playing with the paper roll. He giggled when the roll spun, and when it stopped he would spin it again, giggling like an idiot.

"Get in the tub," ordered Mustang as he banged the bowl against the side of the bathtub. The ice slipped out and fell into the water.

"Why are you so pushy?" asked Ed but nonetheless obeyed. He shivered when he submerged himself. He quickly occupied himself with the floating block of frost. Roy went back down the stairs, to freeze another bowl. When he returned, Edward was gone. Hands grabbed him. There was a clap and a charge of energy. When it was over, Roy found out that he was tied to the wall.

"What are you doing?" bellowed Roy.

"You're wound up too tightly," said Ed in all of his glory. He stepped away and went to his clothes that were on the floor. When he bent over, Roy easily see each one of the vertebrae in his spine, and each one of his ribs. He saw the vicious scars left behind from his automail operation. Roy wondered how his frail looking body could support that heavy piece of machinery.

Ed clapped his hands and the clothes on the floor unraveled themselves. The threads wove back together to make a long black coat. He slipped his arms through the sleeves and zipped up the front. He turned around to face the man that he had chained up.

"There that should be better for you," he said. "You don't have to look at my grotesque body anymore." Ed had a smile on his face. He glided back to Mustang. His golden eyes appraised the man. "You are all about your rules aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" questioned Mustang.

"You just want to rise to the top. To do that, you follow every rule and every order that is given to you." There was no judgment in his voice. "You never just let go, do you?" When the blond had said that, he lifted his hands, palms facing the trapped man, curled his fingers into, and straightened them out as he imitated an explosion. "Have you ever just sit down and relax? I don't think you've done that. You are just too uptight. You need to unwind. I can help." Ed started to search for something, and found what he was looking for by the toilet. He held up the bag.

"What's that?" Mustang eyed the bag edgily.

"Just some Ecstasy," replied Ed. He opened up the bag and took out a pill. He pinched the man's nose closed. "You'll need to breathe some time." Roy tried to hold his breath, but his scorching lungs demanded air. His mouth flew open with a gasp, and Edward took advantage of it. He popped the pill into Mustang's mouth and clamped his hand over Roy's lips. He released the poor man's nose to let him breathe.

Roy knew that the boy was not going to let him go unless he had swallowed the substance. He did not see a way out of this unless…

Ed felt the Colonel's muscles tense and relax, and his Adam's Apple bob.

"I'm going to check to see if you took your medicine," cooed Ed to the man. His face grew closer to Roy, and then their lips met. Roy felt a sharp pinch and he cried out, but that was all that Ed needed. Edward's tongue slipped into Roy's mouth. He searched around and found the pill wedged in between the Colonel's teeth and cheek. He wiggled it out of its hiding place and moved it to the center of Mustang's mouth. Using his automail hand, he pinched closed the older man's nose again, and cut off all ways of breathing. Now he had all two choices, pass out or swallow. Roy opted for the latter.

Working around the invading tongue, he swallowed the drug in his mouth. Edward withdrew.

"Good boy," said Ed blissfully. Roy gasped for air, and Ed petted him fondly. He trailed his hand up and down the man's chest, feeling everything through his shirt.

"Edward, stop," commanded Roy, but the blond kept running his hands up and down his abdomen. Fullmetal stopped and slowly slid his hands up to the collar of his shirt. His fingers, five flesh and five metal, began to slip the buttons out of their holes. Roy was about to yell, but let out yelp of surprise when he felt teeth come in contact with his neck. Edward kissed the spot where he bit, and his fingers continued on their quest.

"I have always wondered what you did to those women to make them keep coming back to you." Once he had the shirt undone, he pulled it open and was not disappointed. Roy's chest was ripped and well toned. "Nice." He stroked Roy again, who was not doing too well. He was trying to resist the effects of the drug, but he was losing the battle. Edward's voice broke his concentration.

"Just give in, Mustang." Ed purred at him. "It's much funner that way. Don't be a killjoy." Ed, still fingering the outline of his Colonel's muscles, buried his face into the nape of Roy's neck.

Roy had slipped and a wonderful feeling possessed him. He started to crave the fingers that were caressing his body. He buried his face into the damp golden locks that graced the young man's head.

"I have been thinking what it would be like to ride you," whispered Fullmetal into his ear, and he groaned back. He felt Ed's lips make their way to his jaw, and then to his lips. Soft and slightly chapped lips crushed against his hungrily and impiously. Roy kissed back, and he kissed the way Ed thought that he would, dominant and demanding. They soon broke for air. Ed gazed up and saw the need pooling in Roy's dark eyes.

"Show me how the wild Mustang mounts his mate," said Ed deviously against the older man's lips.

"Then let me go," said Roy darkly and Ed shivered. He clapped his hands and touched the wall. As soon as he was released, Roy grabbed Ed, spun around, and slammed him against the wall. He kissed the teen roughly and bit his lip. Ed opened his mouth and Roy slipped his tongue in. Ed ripped off Roy's shirt, and tossed it in some unknown direction. He slid his hands up the tall man's neck and into his thick black hair. Roy grabbed Ed's hips and ground it against his body. Ed moaned. They broke apart, panting for air. He grabbed Roy's hand and led him back into the bedroom. He twisted them around until Mustang's back was to the bed, and shoved him backwards. As soon as he landed Edward climbed on top of him, and kissed him with demanding passion. He slipped his hands up Ed's thighs to his ass and kneaded. Ed groaned into his mouth.

Roy flipped over so now Ed was underneath him. His fingers wrapped around the zipper and slowly pulled it down. He left Ed's mouth, and followed the zipper down until he came to the teen's navel. He undid the rest of the long coat and tore it off. Ed was lying naked below him, and needy.

"Big things do come in small packages," teased Roy as he eyed Ed's manhood. What the boy lacked in height, he surely made up for in his size. A smirk made its way to Mustang's lips. "Someone sure is eager." He leaned down and nipped at Ed's clavicle.

"I am a growing boy after all," panted Ed back.

"Yes you are," murmured Roy. He kissed down his chest to one of Edward's nipples and licked it lovingly. The blond gasped.

"Why am I the only one that is naked?" questioned Ed in between gasps. "Get undressed now or I'll rip your pants off." Roy chuckled.

"As much as I want to see you do that, I don't think my pants would appreciate being ripped to shreds."

"Then take them off," Ed ordered, and Roy did what he was told while Ed enjoyed the view. The Colonel's body was pale, lean, and well muscled. He could not wait to start playing with it. Mustang smirked at him, and lightly traced his finger over the head of his already hard penis.

"I have hardly touched you and you're already as hard as rock." Pale fingers ghosted around the head. Edward moaned, and lifted his hips up to get more contact. Roy obliged. He gripped his shaft into a tight hold and tugged hard.

"Ah!" Ed cried and slammed his eyes shut. Roy stroked him roughly.

"You never had anyone else touch you before, did you?" Of course he had not. He never let anyone touch him before, especially this way. It felt so good…

He shook his head side to side in response as his voice was too busy moaning. He was so close. The sweet contraction of muscles that brought a blissful high, he was so close. Then Roy stopped, and he let out a whimper that was silenced by a hungry kiss.

"Don't worry I'm not finished with you yet," Roy whispered sinisterly into his ear. Roy reached over into the bedside table and pulled out a bottle. With a small pop the stopper was pulled out. Roy dipped two fingers into the neck and smeared the oil over his fingers. He put his slick fingers at the tight entrance of Edward's rectum and thrust a finger in. The blond winced at the intrusion. It did not necessarily hurt but it did feel uncomfortable. Roy swirled the finger around inside of him and the discomfort ebbed away. He introduced the second finger. After Ed had gotten used to two, Roy gradually moved them in and out of his body. His moans filled the air.

"Faster...ah…please…" Ed panted.

"Not yet," purred Roy. He stopped the motion and began to search. "Tell me where it is." He curled his fingers.

"Where what—Ahh!" Edward's back left the bed as it bowed upwards. An amazing feeling swept through his entire body. He never thought that such an incredible sensation ever existed. Ever fiber in his being was on fire and rippled throughout his body.

"Bingo." Roy scissored the boy, hitting the spot that brought him that wonderful feeling. Too soon for Ed, the raven haired man withdrew his fingers. He poured more oil in his palm and rubbed over his own raging erection. He tugged at it a few times to relieve some of his tension before he placed his head at Ed's entrance. He pushed, and Ed hissed. It was much bigger than his fingers. "Relax and it won't hurt as much." Edward tried to do as he was told, and eventually Roy was completely inside.

"Move," commanded Edward. His partner pulled out and slammed back in. It was an odd feeling, a strange mixture of pain and pleasure, but the pleasure took over the pain. He moaned and panted at the sensation. He had never thought that his first would be a man or even Mustang for that matter. That thought was flung out of the window as he was forcibly brought back to the present when Roy had hit that spot again inside of him. He arched his back and cried out into the night air.

Watching Ed enjoying himself, Roy smirked. He never thought that Fullmetal could be so sexy. His body was so responsive to his touches, more so then any woman that he had ever been with. Every time that he moaned and called out his name it brought him a strange sense of male satisfaction. Almost as if his voice was fucking his ears the same way he was fucking Edward's body. It was addicting. Then he heard his new lover pant out for him.

"Ha, ha…faster! Ah, harder!" begged Ed. He picked up his pace and Ed writhed in pleasure. Roy slithered a hand in between their sweaty bodies, and pumped his small lovers weeping cock. Ed arched up into his hand, to him every touch felt wonderful. Roy bent down and possessively took his lips. Teeth bit his lower lip and he opened his mouth. Roy had entered his mouth and was exploring every nook and cranny. With his automail hand he gripped the headboard (in this state of no self control he could easily break anyone of Roy's bones and not know about it), and wrapped his human arm around the older man's back. Roy hit that special spot inside of him again, and his nails dug into and were dragged down Roy's pale back as he screamed into said man's mouth. His sharp nails left bloody scratches in their wake. Roy pulled back and let out a hiss of pain.

"I'm, ah, sorry."

"Do it again," said Roy, and Edward mindlessly carried out the order. He raked his nails down Mustang's back again, and he groaned. Ed wondered vaguely if Roy enjoyed pain during sex. "Good, boy." Ed was close, he could feel it. His muscles started contract and coil within him.

"Ah, ah, Roy I'm...ah going to cum!" he moaned out. He just needed a little bit more. Just a little bit to push him over the barrier that separated him and his blissful release. The knot of nerves got hit again, and it happened. "Ah! Roy! Ah! Oh, God!" The barrier was broken, and his muscles contracted, and clamped down on Roy's cock inside of him. His body forcefully expelled his pent up seamen, and it spilled in between them. He continued to yell as he felt Roy ejaculate inside of him. The headboard that was within the clutches of his automail arm snapped, and broke off.

Roy let out a low moan when he felt Ed's walls fastened around him. He soon spilled, and then he collapsed on top Edward. Both were panting, sweating, and satisfied.

"That was…" started the exhausted boy, but he paused. Could he really describe that feeling? That euphoric feeling was more powerful then its synthetic replica that coursed through him. Every word that he thought he could use was not even close. In the end he settled on, "That was something else."

"Not mind blowing, not amazing?" teased Mustang. He withdrew himself from Ed, and lay down next to him.

"I can't describe it."

"Such high praise coming from you." They both grew sleepy. The drug that had kept them energetic was burned out of them. Roy pulled the blanket out from under them, and draped it over the both of them. Roy curled up on his side, his back facing Ed, and let out a yawn. "Night. I'll kill you for this in the morning."

"Thanks for the warning." The blond alchemist was quiet for a second before he asked in a shy and tentative tone, "Can you hold me while I sleep?" There would have been a blush of embarrassment on his face if it was not already flushed from their previous physical activity. The Colonel twisted his upper body to face him and had a questioning expression on his face. "Isn't that what people do after they have sex?"

"If you want." Mustang rolled back over, wrapped his arms around the bed's smaller occupant, and brought him close. Edward smiled a little whether it was from the drugs, the sex, or the fact that for once in a very long time someone held him in a comforting embrace, he did not care. He was just happy, and with that happiness he fell asleep.

But he was cursed.

He was not allowed to feel any happiness without suffering the dire consequences.

* * *

I'm sorry if the yaoi was bad, but I was talking to one of my friends about it and she said, "That practice makes perfect." I kid you not that's what she said to me. Anyway few things left before I go: check out my profile for updates on the progress on your favorite stories/oneshots, I'm sorry about the oneshots being drastically delayed when I wrote them last year in October I'll have them up hopefully soon, I apologize yet again if the yaoi is bad please don't kill me, and also:

Please review this. If I don't get reviews for this story, I will start to think that no one likes it, and then I would not right anymore chapters for it, and then probably end up taking it down. So if anyone likes it than please let me know.

One more thing: do you think I should write a Twilight fic? If you do then put it in your review or message me!

See y'all next time! Bye!


	9. Regret

Hey everyone, I'm sorry that I didn't update in almost 2 months (I think it was 2 months). I had been busy not because of college but because of personal reasons. I had 2 doctor appointments and my aunt came over during Spring Break, and then last week end I had to get a biopsy (biopsy is where they cut into you and take tissue samples of whatever body part they need and send them to the lab for testing so now I have 3 stab wounds on my neck from the big needle LoL) So I got knocked out on Friday, and did not fully recover until Saturday afternoon. I was pretty out of it, and I was giggling a lot... I can't really remember what happened because the drug that they used to knock me out also makes people forgetful of what happened. I had three meds put in me. One to make me relaxed, one to numb me, and the other one was used to put me to sleep. That was fun experience and a funny experience. One of the nurses said that I told her: "Have you ever realized that fingers are like legs for your hands?" hehehe....anyway I digress once again.

I was also trying to get both of my oneshots posted up. You can go and read them if you want to. Go to my profile, scroll to the bottom and you'll see them. They are called **A Day to Remember **and** The Soldier Side.** Go check them out when you're done.

I'm actually trying to write chapter 12 of this story. I have chapter 10 and 11 written out already. The reason why I haven't posted them up is because I was using them just in case I've hit a road block (or writers block in this case), and sure enough I did. They were being saved up just for this occasion so that just in case I can't write the story for some reason I would have backup chapters just in case to keep my readers happy :)

One more thing before I get to the disclaimer and such: I'm also going to have a poll on my profile that concerns a future story that I plan on writing. Depending on how you guys vote depends on how I'm going to post it up. There will be only two options however. So go to my profile and please vote so that I finally figure out how to write it. The information about the story will be up on the poll. Please help me figure this out because I can't really write it until I figure out how I'm going to post it up. Just trust me on this. So please help me and vote. I'm going to keep it open for about a month and then I'm going to close it. So vote soon! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters. They are owned by Arakawa. (I don't think I spelled that right)

Rating: M for Mature

Warnings: contains explicit language, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, and adult situations.

Extra Point: I have used the manga version of the Gate in this chapter, and not the anime version. The manga and the anime have 2 different versions of the Gate, and I'm using the manga version so that you don't get confused.

You have been warned. Hope you enjoy the next installment of **Deus Ex Machina**!

* * *

Chapter 9

Regret

"Regret is insight that comes a day too late" – Unknown

* * *

Roy awoke the next morning in a fog. Did last night really happen? When he sat up, he felt an aching pain in his back from his scratches. He looked around and found Edward sleeping right next to him. Roy still did not believe that he had slept with the _boy_ next to him. He pulled up the covers and looked under. He groaned. He was naked, all right. He put the blankets back down.

_Great, now I'm a pedophile! _thought Roy heatedly. _How could this have happened? Great, just fucking great._ His mind wondered to last night, and all of the events that had transpired. He remembered how the pill was forced down his throat. _The drugs!_ _They are still in the bathroom. I have to get rid of them._ He got up and got ready for the day, and hurried into the bathroom. The pills were relaxing on the ground, as if they had done nothing wrong. He picked up the baggie and flushed it down the toilet. The pills circled around the bowl before they went down the pipe. He went back into the bedroom and Edward was still asleep. He would have to lay in wait.

* * *

Edward opened his eyes blearily. His eyes felt like they had crust growing on them. He rubbed his eyes, and rolled over on his back.

_What happened last night?_ he pondered to himself. He was drawing up blanks. He remembered going to the party and then the rest was just a blur. Just what happened? He sat up and felt dull soreness spread through from the region where his butt was. Then it all came back in a rush. Him taking the Ecstasy, him making out with Jasmine in the van, him forcing Mustang to take the pills, and then… A strangled gasp escaped his mouth, and his face was stuck in an expression of horror.

_We didn't!? Please, someone, tell me that we didn't have sex!?_ He looked around, and this room was not his. While his room was green, this room was purple. The bed sheets were grey when they are supposed to be green. This was definitely not his room. He pulled the blanket up and looked under. He was naked, and saw the mess that he had made smeared on his stomach. He still did not believe it. _How could I!? It was a man, and that man was Mustang!_ Taking a deep breath, he calmed down slightly. Looking around the room, he found the black coat that he had transmuted last night on the ground. He picked it up and threw it over himself. He cautiously walked out of the bedroom and into the hallway. It was clear. Sliding his foot toward the direction of his room, the floorboards creaked, and he froze right on the spot.

"Edward! Living room! Now!" called up a cantankerous voice from down the stairs. Ed could feel the calm anger radiating from the voice. He turned around and trudged down the stairs to the living room. Mustang sat on one of the couches with his legs crossed and his arm folded across his chest. Ed stopped at the mouth of the hallway. Without even looking at him, the Colonel gestured toward the sofa opposite of his. He sat down on the piece of furniture. Mustang had a blank and cold expression on his face, a mask of eerie calm. They stared at each for some time, neither moving, before the Colonel sighed and began to speak.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" questioned Mustang.

Edward nodded and said, "Yes, I do." He did not like the mood that the room had settled in. "Some night, huh?" He forced a halfhearted laugh out, but that was the wrong thing to do. Mustang pounced.

"You think this is funny?" snapped Roy so viciously that Ed jumped. He had never heard this kind of ferocity come from Mustang before. "This is no laughing matter. Do you realize what you have done?"

"What I have done?" said Fullmetal meekly as eyes of black fire burned right through him. He had never been intimidated so much by the man until now.

"Yes, what you have done. You snuck out in the middle of the night, and then came home last night high on drugs, and force fed them to me." Ed hunched over.

"You don't need to lecture me. I know what I did," said Ed quietly.

"You are still going to get one regardless. I'm tired of you undermining me. Don't you have any respect for authority?"

"No," said Ed curtly and Roy growled. They were both getting angry. It was obvious the Mustang had regretted last night with every fiber of his being.

"Last night should have never happened. We will never speak of it. Not now, not ever, understand?" For some reason, that hurt Edward. "Do you understand?" His fists curled into tight balls. All he could feel was a crushing weight in his chest. "Fullmetal, do you—"

"Shut up," he said acidly.

"What?" said Mustang in rage.

"I said shut the fuck up, Mustang!" roared Edward, jumping to his feet. It was not blood, but desolation and anger that coursed through his veins. "You think you can own me and control me? Set all of these rules on me? You are not my father! If you want to be him, then leave! Abandon me the way that bastard did! Reject my existence like he did!" He did not want to be here, he wanted, no, _needed_ to escape. His world crumbled before him, and he could no longer see the room that he stood in. It felt like he was trapped inside some sort of box. It was very dark inside. While the air itself seemed to press down on him, pounding him into the ground, his insides were trying to rip him apart and burst out. He did not understand these confusing feelings. Maybe his body and mind were trying to hold him together and under control, he did not know. All that mattered was his escape.

His heart felt very heavy…

Edward opened his eyes, and noticed that he was in his room.

_You ran up here,_ came a silken voice from above him. He looked up and saw his spitting image looking down at him. He had his head on the lap of his guilt, but he was still confused. _ Your body reacted to your stress and you ran up here._ Edward hung his head.

"Go away," mumbled Ed, not even putting any effort to make his tone sound angry. "Come back later." Though he would deny it, he was happy that his remorse was here with him. It smiled at him when it heard that thought in his head. It ran its fingers through his hair, and he put his head back in its lap.

Stupid Mustang did not understand at all. Even though he had slept with the Colonel, he did not regret it like Mustang had. Edward had finally felt wanted, even though it was just a onetime fling, he had felt desirable to another human being. Now that had been taken away from him, and he felt undesirable and unwanted. He knew that he was undesirable. He was ugly with a hideous personality to match. He was a short-tempered, brash, selfish, self-loathing, despicable creature that clutches his sin close to his heart as a parent would a child. He would instantly repel people away from him with just a look, and make sure that he does not develop any emotional attachment whatsoever. Who would want someone who would hold others at arm's length? Who would want to have someone who was only half a person for a lover? Who would want someone whose body was horribly marred and disfigured like his was? Who would want someone who was flawed, like him?

No one.

No one would want him.

Nobody will ever want him.

His throat started to ache and his eyes burned. He started to cry. A hand petted him soothingly.

_Shhh, love. It's okay,_ it said softly from above him. _I'm still here for you. Don't cry._ It reached down to him and pulled him up onto the bed. The phantom pushed him down onto the bed, and he curled up into a tight ball. It placed its arms around him, and pulled him close, all the while it made comforting sounds.

In due course, Edward had cried out all of his tears. His eyes felt dry and sticky while his throat was rough. He just lay there on the bed in the arms of the most unlikely thing to console him. He relaxed out of his ball; his body became limp and every muscle became lax.

_How are you feeling, love?_ it whispered to him. He felt a very strange feeling. It felt like his mind had shut down and his body could not respond. Everything felt numb to him. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a wall, just staring. That was strange as well. He knew that his brain was processing the visual information that his ocular nerves were sending, but…Edward did not know how to describe it. It felt like he was looking but not seeing. All he saw was color, but there were no shapes to them. Then that faded off, and he was just staring at nothing as if a pair of eyelids within his eyeballs had closed. He could no longer see color, shape, brightness, or hue. There was absolutely nothing. It laughed at him.

_You have the 'stares', my darling._ It pulled him closer. _It's very bizarre isn't it? Seeing, but not seeing at the same time? It is an interesting phenomenon. Almost as if the brain is tricking itself, or how did you say it? 'Looking but not seeing'._ It was cuddling with him, but he did not have the strength or the willpower to make the figment of his imagination stop. It rolled him over, forced his chin up to look him in the eyes, but he could not see its face even though he was looking right at it. _You look very dead, dear. It's almost as if I have a full-size living and breathing rag doll. A very cute rag doll._ Edward mentally twitched slightly at that. It pulled its blond haired rag doll closer and snuggled. _As much as I enjoy this, you must take a bath. You are still messy from last night, and you smell like sex._ When its rag doll did not respond in the slightest way, it pulled away and said in a commanding voice, _Bathe, now_. That time the doll responded and stood. It grabbed its cuddly doll's hand and he responded, following it mechanically, half metaphorically and half literally, since half of its doll is machine.

When they had reached the bathroom at the end of the hall, it guided its living doll to the toilet to seat. Its cute doll sat with his legs bent at a ninety-degree angle, hands folded on the lap, shoulder slightly hunched, the head hung, and the empty eyes stared at his knees with apathy. The remorse conjured spirit shook its head, and started to heat up the bath water. Once it was at the right temperature, it clogged up the hole with the stopper, and turned back to the doll called Edward. It knelt before him.

_The tub is filling,_ it said adoringly. _Take off your clothes._ The doll did what he was told. With unconscious movement, its golden-eyed toy unfastened the jacket, stood, and let it slide off his shoulders and onto the ground. _Good boy._ It tugged the cute doll's hand to the tub, and helped him in. Once settled, its doll stared blankly at the ceiling. It soon shut off the water when the level was appropriate. It reached for the washcloth and soap, and began scrubbing its lovable doll clean. Once it was finished, it placed the items back in their rightful place, sat on the lip of the bathtub, and waited. Ed did not move at all, and after some time of silence the phantom spoke.

_Edward, you can't be a zombie for the rest of your life._ Its doll came to life and shook his head. _You don't want to be a mindless doll, do you?_ Its doll did not do anything for a few seconds before he shook his head again. _Then speak to me._ Edward slowly opened his mouth and spoke in a soft and quiet voice.

"I don't know what to say," he said.

_Tell me, why did you cry?_

"Have you not figured it out by now? Rejection is a cruel mistress."

_Yes, it is, but death is a sweet lover._

"Yes it is." Edward clapped his hands together and touched his metal arm. The metal warped and elongated into the sharp blade that he always fought with. How many times had he used it in battle to defend himself? He remembered long ago that he had created it accidently. He needed a weapon to defend himself in the heat of battle, and then he had subconsciously thought of the knife. Now, here it was. He held up the blade to the light. The surface shone, and the water glinted as the light from the fluorescent bulbs hit them at different angles.

Edward was tired of it all. Tired of the pain and misery that was dropped down on him. Tired of being rejected by everyone around him, and disappointing them. The praise and fame that he received year after year did nothing for him. He did not want it anymore, and did not want to bog everyone else down by his presence. He wanted it to finally end.

He placed the tip of the dagger against his forearm and pushed. It hurt more then he thought that it would, but he grit his teeth and bore it. He tore the blade down his arm and to his elbow. His wounded arm dropped into the hot water, and it burned and irritated the lesion. He hissed slightly at this. He raised his automail arm, clapped it against the other arm, and transmuted the blade back into the arm. His blood rose up through the water like smoke from a volcano. He was getting tired, and he wanted to go to sleep. His eyelids started to get heavy and droop. A hand brushed against his cheeks, and he looked up in the eyes of his doppelganger. It smiled at him.

_I'll see you around,_ it said in velvety tone. He lazily nodded.

"Yeah…later," said Edward exhausted. He closed his eyes, and surrendered to the sleep that he found so peaceful.

* * *

Edward had stormed off, and Roy was rooted to his chair. He had not expected that. Abandon him as his father did? Roy had never thought of doing something like that. He sighed. The conversation had not turned out the way he planned.

_Why does Edward have to be so difficult about everything?_ thought Roy to himself. He stood and went up the stairs to his room to change for the day. When he was close to his bedroom he heard sobbing coming from Edward's room. He felt a twinge of regret. Maybe he should have been easier on the boy, but he stood by what he said. The adolescent did not understand what position that he forced him in. If word of it got out, Mustang's career would be over, and he would go to jail. He would not become Führer, and he would not be able to change the government or the country.

He shuffled into his room, changed, and ripped the sheets off the bed. When he stepped out of his room, he saw Edward at the end of the hall. Roy watched Ed turn into the bathroom and the door shut behind him. Readjusting his grip, Roy continued down to the ground floor, and threw the bed sheets into the washing machine. After he added the correct amount of detergent and started up the machine, he went to the kitchen to make breakfast. He made waffles and some bacon.

Roy remembered Hoenhiem of Light. The man was a genius, and he had met him on a few occasions. Years passed the last time that he had seen Hoenhiem, but he had heard through the grapevine that he had left his family. Then one day he got a letter addressed to him by an Elric. At first, he thought that it was Hoenhiem but when he carefully read the return address, he noticed that it was from an Edward and Alphonse Elric. He opened the letter. It was written in childish handwriting, describing in very few details that their mother was on her deathbed, and that they were looking for their father. They had begged Roy if he knew where he was, or have any information on him at all. However, he could not answer them back. He had no clue where the elusive man was and what he was doing. Roy remembered that he had shaken his head, and put the letter into one of his desk drawers. Then their mother died shortly thereafter. Edward must have blamed himself for their father leaving. That blame must have grown and mutated into the hate that Ed always displayed whenever there was even a mention of his father. It would explain his outburst earlier, his feeling of self-loathing, his need to protect himself from creating emotional attachments to anybody, his trust issues... He blamed himself for everything.

_The poor kid,_ thought Roy sadly.

He shut off the burner, and went back up the stairs to fetch Ed. He hesitated outside of the bathroom door. He was unsure about how he would be received by Edward after their discussion downstairs. He hoped that they could get past this now that he understood Ed a little bit better. He knocked on the bathroom door.

"Edward, I've got breakfast waiting for you on the table, okay?" said Roy. He waited for a response, but he attained none. His eyebrow twitched.

_Did he run off again?_ he thought. He turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

"Edward, I swear if you are gone again—" he started but fell silent as his heart hammered in his chest. Edward was lying in a vat of his own blood. Roy went pale. There was so much blood that the water had turned a dark red. Ed's eyes were closed as if he were merely sleeping, and not dying. Dying…that word stuck out like sore thumb in Roy's mind.

_Dying…dying…Edward's dying!_ Roy moved quickly. From his time in the civil war he had learned a wide variety of techniques to keep a comrade alive just long enough to get them to a doctor. He pulled Ed out of the tub and onto the ground. Quickly examining the gash, he ran back into his room, grabbed one of his shirts, and ran back to the bathroom. He quickly tied his shirt around the boy's upper arm, making sure that it was tight enough to stop the blood flow but loose enough that he could fit a finger through. After that, he elevated the limb to keep the blood from flowing. He placed his finger on the jugular vein in Edward's throat, and started to panic when he could not find a pulse. He put his ear to Ed's chest and listened. There was a heartbeat but it was very faint. He had to get to the hospital fast. After he put the black trench coat back on Ed, he picked him up, and, making sure the injured arm stayed above the level of Ed's heart, he ran down the stairs. He grabbed his keys, loaded Ed in his car, and floored it. His tires squealed as he shot out from the garage and down the road. He completely disregarded all stop signs and lights. Roy almost crashed twice before he got to the hospital. He raced to the emergency room, and people had to dive out of the way to make sure that his car did not hit them. They were yelling at him when he got out of the car, but they got quiet when he pulled out the fading Edward from the passenger seat. Carefully cradling him, Roy began to run up the ramp into the emergency room. A woman ran up to him.

"What's wrong with him?" she said quickly as she looked underneath the folds of clothes to find the injury. She was young, most likely fresh out of med school, with an oval face.

"There's a deep wound on his left arm," he said quickly.

"Laceration on the left forearm." She muttered to herself as she checking the wound. "Tourniquet was used to stop the hemorrhage. It is deep, most likely cut right into the brachial artery." He knew enough terminology to understand that it was not good. "This way." They both hurried into the building. The double doors burst open, and all of the occupants watched them as they darted across the room. "I need a stretcher, an OR prepped, and O negative blood, STAT!" Two nurses came rushing in with a stretcher, one got on the phone with the lab to put in the order of blood, and a team of nurses ran off to prepare a vacant operating room. "Put him on the stretcher." He quickly did what he was told. Roy was slightly astounded by the efficiency of the place. Another doctor ran quickly up to them. He was about the same height as Roy with brown hair and glasses.

"This is Doctor Weismann, one of our surgeons," said the woman quickly. A nurse came up to them.

"OR 3 is ready." With that, they all started to run down the hall as both doctors steered and pushed the gurney.

"What's the status of the patient?" said Dr. Weismann.

"Laceration on the underside of the left forearm," said the female doctor, and she pushed up the sleeve. People had to press themselves up against the walls to let them past. "The laceration has cut into or severed the brachial artery. Pulse, BP and respiration are dangerously low." They came to a screeching halt and made a hard right into a room.

"Dammit he has automail!" cursed Dr. Weismann.

"Is that bad?" asked Roy.

"Your bones are the things that produce your blood. He has two automail limbs, which means fewer bones to produce blood." They entered the room and inside there was already a team of nurses ready. "Sir, you have to wait outside." Machines were already being hooked up to Edward.

"But—" started Roy.

"There is nothing more you can do," said the doctor, and he slid the glass door shut in Roy's face. He could not hear what was going on inside of the room. They had removed the shirt that he had used as a makeshift tourniquet, and the blood started to pour out from the open wound again. A nurse rushed past him with a bucket full of blood on ice. They hooked an IV up to Edward's leg and attached one of the blood bags. Dr. Weismann and the female doctor were working together on the cut.

The doctor was right, there was nothing more that he could do besides stand outside and watch. He hoped that everything would be all right, but he could not help but fear for Edward. A million "what ifs" ran through his head. What if he had tied his shirt too tightly? What if he had cut off circulation to Ed's arm for too long? Would Ed lose the last arm he had left? What if he was too late?

* * *

A bright yellow light surrounded him. Ed pulled his arm up to cover his face and he blinked against the brilliance. The light faded to a more comfortable brightness level, and he slowly lowered his arm. Something stood before him. It was a large stone door, ancient and worn. Carved into the antique door was a large tree, and at the end of each branch was large circle with ancient writing written within. At the bottom, the tree's roots were splayed out with more circles and more writing at each root end.

The Gate. It was still as menacing as he remembered.

_I never thought to see you again so soon, Edward,_ whispered an eerie voice. He spun around. Was it coming from behind him? _I am over here._ He whipped back around to face the Gate. Someone sat in front of the rocky doors. It was neither man, woman, child, or adult. It was a genderless, ageless creature. The All, the One, the World, the Universe, God... He could only see its outline and the smile on its lips.

"Hey," said Ed blandly, his voice echoed in the open area.

_Why are you here?_ it asked him in a genderless voice that was not masculine or feminine. Ed blinked in confusion.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" he asked back.

_Are you sure?_ It tilted its head to the side. _Because I believe that you are still alive._

"What? No, that's impossible."

_Nothing is impossible, Edward. You should know that by now,_ it said to him. It raised an arm and pointed a finger at him. _You are not dead yet. You are stuck in Limbo. Not quite dead and not quite alive, but in between. That man that you have been living with, Roy Mustang, found you and took you to the hospital. The doctors are working on you right now to save you. _

"That won't work. I have already accepted death. I want to die." His eyes burned with determination.

_You may want to die, but it is not yet your time,_ it said to him calmly.

"Don't give me that bullshit!" yelled Edward. He strode past the omnipotent being to the Gate. He tried to wedge his fingers in between the doors and pry them open. "Just let me in."

_You still do not believe me,_ it said to him. _I will need to get a second opinion to convince you._

The stone doors swung open, creaking on invisible hinges. There was nothing but darkness within. Darkness so deep that no light can ever hope to penetrate it. It swirled and billowed, and then a slit formed straight down through the darkness. The slit opened, and a large red and purplish eye stared down at him. The eye felt like it had penetrated his soul, watching every memory, feeling every emotion that he had. Then the eye looked away and peered within the darkness, searching.

Ed froze on the spot. He remembered that eye, the All Seeing Eye. When he had tried to resurrect his deceased mother, it was there too, watching him and judging him. When it looked away from him, he tried to step through the Gate, but when he did, a hand shot out and pushed him back. It was not a black hand that belonged to the Gate's many minions, but tanned and human. Its fingers were slender and womanly. Then he saw a shape. Something was coming towards him. No, not one but two things. He staggered away from them, as they stepped past the threshold and took form.

"Mom? Teacher?" he said disbelieving. He wanted to collapse.

"Hello, sweetie," said his mother, Trisha. She was slender with red lips, and brown hair and eyes. His teacher, Izumi Curtis, just smiled at him. She was tall with black hair and dark eyes, and had pale skin. The eye had spun back around and watched. Ed's legs gave way, and fell to his knees.

"Is it really you?" he said hopefully. He edged forward on his knees. Trisha smiled. She walked to him, knelt down, and hugged him.

"Yes, it's me," she said tenderly to him as she held him tightly. Was she really there with him? He reached out a hand and touched her. She felt warm and soft underneath his touch. She was real. She really was there with him. He wrapped both his arms around here and held her just as tightly.

"Mom…mom…" He started to cry into her shoulder. His sobs reverberated around them. Izumi sat down next to him, petting his head. "Mom, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't fix you. I'm sorry for turning you into a monster. I'm sorry…"

"Shhh, it's okay, honey," she said softly to him. "I forgive you."

"You do? You don't hate me?" He pulled away from her to look at her. She smiled at him. There was no resentment or angry in her face. His teacher wrapped her arms around him.

"She could never hate you, Edward," said Izumi in his ear. "She's your mother, and she'll always love you no matter what." He heard a throat being cleared.

_Ladies, time is of the essence,_ said the creature behind them.

"Edward," said Izumi with a somber expression. "You need to go back."

"Why? Why can't I stay with you?" said Ed, his panic was evident in his voice.

"Because you don't belong here, Ed. It's not your time. You have to go back."

"But I don't want to go. I want to stay."

"You can't stay," said his teacher, and she smiled. "You need to keep on living. I don't exactly approve of you living with the military dog, but I will accept it. If he tries anything, I'll come back to life just to kick his ass." Ed shook his head from side to side in horror. He turned to the one person left with the authority to let him stay.

"Mom, do I have to go back? Please let me stay!" he begged his mother, who was quiet the whole time. She smiled sadly at him.

"You have to go," she said to him. Why was this happening? Why was he being pushed away? Did his mother despise him after all, but was trying to nice? Did she really love him?

Long hands slithered out from the darkness. They were wrapping their long thin arms around him and pushed him away. He tried to tighten his hold, but they overpowered him. Trisha slipped out of his grip, and the eye followed him with its calculating gaze. He tried to reach out to her, to both of them, but could not fight it.

Everything grew dark and the light began to fade away. Then last image he had was of the two most important people in his life watching him fade away. Izumi placed an arm around Trisha's shoulders.

"Take care of your brother, Edward," called out his mother.

Then everything faded away, and he was swallowed up in darkness, misery, and rage.

* * *

The glass door slid open again, and Roy quickly shot up from his seat that was across from the operating room.

"How is he? Is he okay?" asked Roy and Dr. Weismann gave him a smile.

"He'll make it," said the doctor. "You managed to get him here before he lost too much blood. We are now going to take him to a recovery room." The stretcher that carried Ed was wheeled past them, and they followed. Weismann flipped open a folder and quickly scanned it. "We stitched up the artery that got damaged. It was torn up badly, but we managed and sewed him back together. Then we gave him some blood to replace what he had lost. However there was a complication during the operation."

"What complication?" Roy asked nervously.

"Well, his heart rate and blood pressure suddenly dropped, but we took care of that." They waited at the elevator. "I don't think that we'll be able to fit in the same elevator. What room are you going to take him to?"

"I called ahead and they said that room 325 is open," said one of the nurses.

"We will meet you up there." They elevator doors slid opened and the nurses pushed the unconscious teen into the elevator. The female doctor stayed behind with them to wait for the next elevator.

"I have not introduced myself. I am Doctor Livingston," she said and she held out a hand for him to shake.

"Roy Mustang, and it's a pleasure to meet you," said Roy and he shook her hand.

"Roy Mustang?" she said thoughtfully. "Where have I heard that name before? Oh! Do you know a Samantha Livingston?"

"I'm sorry to say that I haven't," he said a little confused. Their elevator came, and they headed up the third floor.

"She works as a librarian in Central Library."

_A librarian?_ thought Roy.

"I'm sorry but I don't use the library."

"She said that she delivered you a message to you from Major Fullmetal." He definitely remembered her. She was that secretary that gave him the message of Ed going downtown, and that was how all of this started. With that one simple little letter. "She's always talking about him. Telling me all about their conversations, how he's always waiting for the library to open in the morning, and how he would always stay up an hour after the library closes. He's sounds like a nice man. She also told me about you."

"Really?" he said.

"Yes sir. She told me all about you," she said a little deviously. "You may not know it, but your reputation has already proceeded you here. You are kind of a legend around here." She winked at him. Then there was sharp whistle that got both of their attentions.

"Livingston, please don't badger the man," said Weismann. The elevator doors slipped open.

"Sorry, sir," she said.

"You'll have to excuse my intern. She had one too many cups of coffee this morning," he said as they stepped off.

"I didn't drink that much…"she grumbled. They walked into a large white lobby. There was a large nurse's station right in front of the elevator and two branching hallways on either side. They walked up to a counter at the station.

"Your ER patient had just come up," said one of the nurses without looking up from her work. "They have already set him up in his room."

"Thank you," said Weismann. They went down one of the hallways to a room that was labeled 325. They went inside. Edward was hooked up to a monitor that gave out a rhythmic beep. A needle stuck out his thigh with a tube attached that led up to a bag of blood. A nurse stood next to him, flicking her finger against a syringe to get the air bubbles out. She stuck his arm with the needle and pushing the medicine into his veins. When she was done, she turned back to the IV line, to double check that it was working correctly.

"Could you give us a minute?" The nurse nodded at him and left. "We are giving him some morphine to deal with the pain, but only for the time being. He is stable, and should wake up soon. However there is something that I want to ask you." The doctor's expression became serious and dark. "We have found multiple scars all over his body and some lesions on his left hand that should have gotten stitches. Do you know anything about this?"

Roy looked down at Ed on the bed. Edward looked worse than he had ever been. He was very pale, probably from the massive bleeding, thin, and very fragile, as if a single breath blown onto him could break him. What would happen if they took him away? What would happen if the doctors told the local asylum that they had a suicidal teenager in their hospital that needed to be committed into a padded room? Then he would only have people in white lab coats to visit him day in and day out, and he would wear the ever popular and stylish white straight jacket. Every single day he would be probed and questioned as the doctors write down there observations of his behavior. Roy could not give Edward that kind of life. He could not have that happen.

"Battle scars," said Roy simply. "They are battle scars. He works for the military, and some of his missions lead him to dangerous areas." He hoped that was enough explanation.

"Are you sure that these are not self-inflicted?" said Weismann.

"Yes." He sighed.

"Very well, but we'll be keeping an eye on him. In the mean time, we will be giving him some antibiotics to fight off any infection that he could have gotten as a precaution. We will also be giving him some more blood transfusions, and check his vitals every six hours. He'll be able to go home in a few days. How does that sound?"

"You're the doctor."

"Livingston or I will come in every so often to check up on him," said Weismann as he wrote down his instructions on the chart. Once he was done, he placed the chart at the end of the bed in a pocket. "Come on, Livingston. We've got more work to do." With that, they strode out of the room and down the hall.

Roy let out a breath that he did not know that he was holding. He pulled up a chair next to Ed's bed and set himself down with a heavy sigh. What a great way to start the day, but that did not matter right now. All that mattered was that Edward was alive, and on his way to a full recovery, physically at least. Roy watched the sleeping teen from his perch, and saw that the face was contorted into anger. If he only understood what it meant.

* * *

There you go! I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to check out my profile under the sections called **News **and** Story Updates**. Those two sections will be kept up to date with recent news on your favorite stories, and with anything in my life that will prevent me from writing and/or posting up the next chapter of any story or oneshot. Also please check out my oneshots, and please vote in the poll that I mentioned above. Okay now I'm going to let you go.

Thanks for reading, and please review! :)


	10. The Hardest Question

-pokes her head around a corner and see a very angry mob, and hides again- This is not good, very not good. -pulls out a piece of paper and pen, and starts writing- To my friend Husky-fox, I leave you my collection of Pokemon cards. Please take good care of them. To my brother, I leave you my desktop computer that I spent so long building from scratch. Whatever you do, don't let mom and dad find my yaoi that is on it.

Person: There she is!

Pojo-san: Oh, crap! -starts running for dear life- Have mercy on this poor unfortunate soul!

Well it's finally done. I have finished revising the first 9 chapters of this story, and I have posted them up! I'm so happy that it's finally done. You'll notice more of a change in the first 5 chapters than the last few. Don't worry I didn't delete entire pages and whatnot, but they are much better. So please go back and read them because I did all for you! Yeah you, especially you Emily! I don't know if that's your real name. I just did it to mess with all the Emily's in the world. I'm sorry that this chapter came up late, but I was waiting for the revisions to be done. Please forgive me!

Also please go read my oneshot The Soldier Side. I put so much effort and passion into making that oneshot and no one reads it... It makes me cry. Out of all the stories I made, Soldier Side is my personal favorite. I love it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or it's characters.

Warnings: mature themes, angst, swearing, and violence

This fanfic is rated M for mature! You have been warned!

Now enjoy the latest edition of Deus Ex Machina!

* * *

Chapter 10

The Hardest Question

"The most difficult question to answer in the whole world is only one word: 'Why?' " – Pojo-san

* * *

Roy Mustang was sitting in the hospital cafeteria, eating an overpriced hamburger and soft drink. He heard some of the women around him whispering and talking about him, but he paid them no attention. The P.A. overhead let out some faint static, and then a voice came on.

"Dr. Strong, report to room 325. Dr. Strong, report to room 325, immediately!" said the voice and then it shut off.

_Room 325,_ thought Roy. _That's Ed's room._ He got up, threw his trash away, and hurried up the elevator to the third floor. When he got off he saw some burly men in scrubs and security uniforms rushing into a room down the hall. He raced toward the room, and there was shouting.

"Get the fuck away from me!" yelled an all too familiar voice. Roy stood in the doorway. Edward was awake, and gripping the bed for support. In his right hand was the IV pole, and both the antibiotic and blood bag were thrown onto the floor. He was backed up against the wall with shaky legs. There were six muscular men in the room to subdue the violent teen. A male nurse tried to approach Ed, but the pole came swinging toward him and he had to jump back to dodge it.

Roy saw a female nurse standing in the corner, looking a little stunned.

"Ma'am, what happened?" asked Mustang she looked up at him; her eyes darted between him and Ed. There was another whoosh as the IV pole swung again.

She said to him, "I came in here to replace the blood bag and check his IV when he woke up. I told him what had happened, and he started to get really angry. Then he lunged at me, and tried to attack me. T-t-then…" She fell silent. She obviously never had dealt with an enraged Ed. Mustang looked back toward Edward, and saw that two men were trying to flank him and box him in. However, Ed would have none of that, and he swung the pole out again in quick, wide arcs. He growled out at them. His gilded eyes found Mustang and he let out a vicious ripping snarl like a dog.

"_You,_" growled out Ed at him. "You brought me here!" There was only one way that he knew how to handle Fullmetal whenever he got angry. It was sad, really. The Colonel smirked, and his military persona took over.

"I see that you're causing trouble for the hospital staff," said Roy. Something flashed in Fullmetal's eyes, but it was gone too fast for him to identify. A mask slipped over the face that stared back at him. They were really the same deep down. Both were childish in some way or another. Both of them were hiding behind a fake face, a mask. Roy had a disguise to make sure that his true intentions and plans would go unnoticed by his higher ups, and to make sure that no one could influence him. Edward on the other hand… The one reason that he could think of as to why Ed would want to masquerade was to make sure that he was emotionally detached from everyone else. However, that was only one reason. There had to be others.

"It's your fault that this is all happening," said Ed.

"Fullmetal, just put down the pole, or else I will have to use force on you." Edward started to snicker and then let out a wild laugh.

"What can you do? You're useless here!" he yelled at the Colonel with a feral look in his eyes. "This place has pure oxygen throughout the entire building, and if you use your gloves here, you'll blow up the entire thing!"

"I don't need my gloves to subdue you," said Mustang. Ed snorted at him.

"Sure you do," he said. At that moment a security guard jumped to tackle him, and the silver IV pole came swinging at the guard. It hit the man in the side, but he wrapped his hands around it and pulled hard. Edward stumbled forward, with a surprised look on his face, and tried to catch himself with the bed. However, he was too weak to support the sudden shift in his weight and fell onto his hand and knees while his left hand still held on the bed. The other men pounced on him. One of them twisted his flesh arm around his back and forced him to fall facedown on the floor while the others went to hold down his other limbs. He swore loudly and struggled against his suppressors. He felt a sharp stabbing pain in his arm as syringe filled with a sedative punctured his skin.

"No!" he yelled. "No! God damn you!" The drugs worked much more quickly than he had original thought. Everything became blurry and his eyes became heavy. He wanted to sleep. No, he did not want to sleep. The drugs were making him sleepy. He tried to fight against it but it was a losing battle. "No! No…No…n…o…" His arms grew heavy, and his flailing became more half-hearted. He went limp and was fast asleep before he knew it.

* * *

He would have no dreams here. In some back corner of his drug hazed, broken mind, he knew that he would not have any nightmares. It was the drugs. The drugs were preventing him from entering the world of nightmares and monsters. He was glad for that. They were his safety net. Too long had he woken up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and fear. Too long had he screamed in his sleep so loud that the next morning his throat was sore and rough. However, they would not be there the next time. So he would enjoy this while it lasted.

The first thing that Edward was aware of was the rhythmic beeping sound of a machine close by. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt too heavy. When he finally did open them, his eyelids immediately drooped again, and he fell back to sleep. After what felt like minutes, he opened his eyes again. This time, he was able to keep them open. He blinked a few times as he slowly processed his surroundings.

His room was dark. The blinds were drawn shut, but some of the sun's light still managed to find its way through the barrier. Turned his head to the right, he saw the heart monitor measuring his heartbeat, breathing, and blood pressure. The EKG line jumped and sank with monotone beeps every time his heart gave out a pulse. He slowly turned his head to the left, and saw the IV tube run up to two bags. He rolled his held back to stare up at the ceiling, and he moved his arms to push himself up.

At once, he was met with resistance. He pulled on his arms again and they moved only two inches. He lifted his head up a little and looked down at his wrists. A leather and cloth cuff surrounded his arm a little above his wrist with a strip of nylon cloth tied to the frame of the bed. He looked at his automail arm, and saw that it had a metal shackle around it. What was going on? Why was he tied down to the bed? When he tried to move his legs into a more comfortable position, they would not move more than an inch. A cloth manacle was tied around his leg, and undoubtedly another shackle was tied around his automail leg. He tried to sit up, at least to rest on his elbows, but he could not move his torso. He was wearing something like a straight jacket without sleeves that was also tied to the bed. Panic started to set in as he struggled against the bindings. He twisted and turned as much as he could to break himself free, but nothing was effective. Even under the force of his automail, the shackles did not give. They must be made out of either steel or titanium.

"The doctors suggested that they should restrain you," said a dark voice from the corner of his room. Ed stopped fighting and looked down at the foot of his bed. Mustang was sitting in a cheap plastic chair. He continued to speak. "Just in case you attacked another nurse, I told him that they should give you the full body restraints." Mustang was watching him with cold eyes. Edward laid his head back down on the pillows. He did not want to look at the man right now. He heard footsteps and the Colonel stood right next to him. "It took six people to take you down, and almost three of them to put you back on your bed." Ed turned his head away from the dark haired man. He tried to turn his body but it was to no avail. He did not want to talk to him or even look Mustang.

Roy sighed. The boy was trying to avoid him, and he knew it.

"You will always be a child," he said to the petite boy. "You need to grow up and stop sulking." Ed did not respond. He did not even yell at him for calling him a child. "Fullmetal, why did you attack the nurse?" He still did not respond. The raven-eyed man let out a frustrated sigh. "Why are you acting like child? Why are you attacking people?"

"So you're back to calling me Fullmetal, _Colonel_?" said Edward with as much acrimony that he could muster.

"Don't you dare dance around the subject. Why, Fullmetal? Tell me, why are you doing this?"

Why… For such a simple word, it is the most menacing word known to man. So much weight is held just in a single word. Why does a killer kill? Why do people believe in a higher power? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why was "why" the hardest question to answer? Who can really answer "why"? "Why" could never be fully explained. Humans may never know the "why" behind their actions; just the "how". They do not know why certain things happen, but they do know how. Maybe the Gate could answer the "why", but humans can only answer the "how". So why did he do this? Why was he angry with Mustang? Was it because he saved his life, or something else? Did his hate and anger for the man really run as deep as he thought it went? Why did it hurt him when Mustang started to call him by his codename again? There were too many "whys" for him to answer.

"Child," spat out Mustang suddenly. "I've tried and I've tried to help you, Fullmetal, but every time I do you throw it right back in my face."

"Don't pretend that you fucking care for me!" quarreled Ed acidly. He whipped his head back around to glare heatedly into the night colored eyes of his superior officer. "I know how it is with you. You just want to keep me alive so that you can be pushed through your career. You just want another tool for your convenience. You already have a sharp shooter, an intelligence gatherer, why not another alchemist? Oh wait, it gets even better." He had almost a wild look in his eyes as Mustang gave him a cutting look of his own. "Why not blackmail me to make sure that I stay in line? You know enough about the things that I've done. If I step too far out of line all you have to do is say the word, and I'll have my ass hauled off to jail. That way you can have an alchemist, who is trusted by the people, sitting in your pocket that has a dirty little secret, and is expendable and easy to replace. It's a win-win situation for you. What do you have to lose?"

They glared at each other for a few moments before Mustang spoke, "I see, so this is the view that you have of me. It's sad, really, but you're right." Those words struck Roy down to the core. "I only want you for your abilities. I don't care what happens to you as long as you are alive and back on duty the next day. We can completely ignore the fact that I even cared about your mental well being, or the fact that I had taken you into my home, or the times when I saved your life. We can forget about those things. Your alchemic abilities are the only thing that I want from you and nothing more." The air became thick with tension. He turned away from Edward and went to the plastic chair to fetch his coat.

"Where are you going?" asked Ed fiercely from his bed. Roy slipped his arms through the sleeves.

"Home," he replied. He half turned his body back to face Ed. "I'm not needed here. I'll pack up your stuff, and it will be ready for you when you get back."

"What do you mean?" questioned the blond haired teen. The wrath had washed out of his eyes to be replaced by curiosity and… Did Roy see fear in his eyes? He straightened out his coat a little.

"You don't have to say it, Fullmetal. It's obvious that you don't want to be around me, let alone live with me, so I'll get your belongings together so that you can move out as soon as you return. You can move back into your apartment and do whatever you want. I won't interfere with your plans to kill yourself anymore. If you want to die than you have my permission. I won't help you anymore. Don't worry; I won't be at your funeral." He started to walk away.

"Wait, hang on!" called out Ed. He started to struggle more violently against the restraints. The tempo of heart monitor began to increase. The machine registered the fact that his blood pressure increased and his breathing began to skyrocket, but the bells and alarms did not go off yet. He figured that it was useless to fight against them, and he decided to try alchemy. He tried to put his hands together, but they would not budge more than two inches. He began to strain his hands together to make his circle. He did not need to clap his hands completely together; he just needed them to touch. Mustang was already at the door and was turning the knob. Edward's arm started to slip slightly through the cuff. He was almost there…His fingertips connected, and he felt the surge of alchemic energy pulse through his entire being and soul. He quickly wrapped his automail hand around the shackle, and the energy burst out from his body and into the metal restraints. They fell apart. He hastily transmuted the chest restraint and the leg restraints off. The door was opened.

"Good-bye, Fullmetal."

"Hey, wait a second!" called out the young man again. He vaulted over the bed railing and onto the ground. There was a searing pain in his shoulder, and he yelped. He had forgotten about his other arm restraint. He fell to his knees as he heard the door click closed.

Ed did not need to look up to know that Mustang was gone. He arm was held up into the air by the confining cuff. Once again, his brain detached itself from the rest of his body. It did not want to be around to feel all of the anguish that was surfacing up from within him. Why did he hurt on the inside? Was he really so messed up that even Mustang gave up on him? Mustang had never given up on anything before…before him. He was such a fucked up mess. He knew it. No one could help him. No one could save him. He was too damaged and too broken for anyone to put back together again.

The air grew heavier around him as quiet tears fell down his haunted face. The tortured man wanted to scream, to start breaking things and go on a rampage. Yet here he sat, kicked, broken, and defeated. Hate was the only thing he had seen. Hate, hate and more hate. He deserved all of their hate. It was his fault. Everything was his fault. He could not please his father, he could not save his mother, he could not fix her, he turned her into a monster, and he sacrificed his brother to get her back. Envy, Wrath, Sloth… All of them were not the monsters that he thought that they were.

He was.

He was the monster. A horrible, horrible monster. Now he understood the suffering of Midas when everything that he touched would turn to gold. With Edward however, anything that he touched would break and turn for the worse, like with Mustang. He had had something. Mustang was actually willing to help him, to comfort him, and to support him, but look at what he had done. He told him to fuck off, told him to leave him alone, and fought with him every step of the way. What was wrong with him? He just shoved the last person left who would let him cry on his shoulder out of his life. The Colonel was right; he had pushed him too far away. Now it no longer mattered. He truly had no one left.

He was gone, and he had no one left. Now Edward was left to cry his empty tears alone and friendless. Inside of him he heard something break into a thousand pieces.

* * *

Kindness and cruelty…The two most opposing words in the human language. They go hand in hand because you cannot have one without the other just like a coin. Even charity can be cruel because it reminds those less fortunate of the things that they do not have. Pain could be a kindness because it reminds people that they are still human.

_You have to be cruel to be kind…_

He wished that it could have been done another way but there was not. He had no choice.

_Why does it always have to be "we had no choice"?_

What was done was done, and there was no changing it. It tore Roy up inside when he saw that look run across Ed's face, the one of fear, desperation, and dejection. But he could not reach out to that face and comfort it. He had to remain stoic and hidden as those fright filled eyes looked into his own. He had to walk away as the voice that belonged to that terrified face called out to him. He had to do it to make Edward realize how much that he needed him. He would never get a verbal response from him, but actions spoke louder than words. It tore him up even more inside as Ed called his bluff. What people did not realize was that he was human too. Another human that bleeds, cries, and feels pain just like anyone else.

Roy heard Ed yelp in pain, and he looked over his shoulder. Ed had fallen to the floor. Roy slowly closed the door, his eyes not leaving the crumpled figure on the ground. Ed's legs were curled up underneath him as he leaned up against the side of the bed with his arm hanging up in the air. He strode back across the room to the bed where the broken teen sat.

Was it wrong of him to play the boy like that? No, he had to be cruel to be kind.

He knelt down next to Ed, whose eyes were staring at the green linoleum floor. An anguished expression slowly filled his wheat colored eyes. Roy slowly reached out a hand to that haunted face. The instant that his fingertips brushed against the skin of the teen's face he cringed away from him. Ed pulled himself away from his touch. He reached out to try again but the same thing happened. No matter how many times that he tried to reach out to Ed, he would just cringe away from him. He sighed. He did deserve it, after all, and he did not blame Edward for acting this way toward him. Roy reached out, once more, with his arms, wrapped them around the now trembling petite body, and quickly pulled him close. Ed started to thrash violently against him.

"Edward, it's me. Stop it," he said gently into Ed's ear. "Calm down, Ed. Calm down." Ed slowly settled down, and he felt him move to look up at him. Their eyes met and he saw the betrayal that he had inflicted upon the lad. The golden head burned itself against his shoulder, and he felt Ed's body tremble fiercely. There was no sound, but he knew that Edward was crying. He waited patiently as he stroked the back of the teen's head comfortingly. Ed held the sleeve of his jacket in a tight grip as if he was afraid that Roy was going to disappear the instant the he let go. The tremors that racked his body quieted down, and his grip remained as strong as ever. Mustang reached up to undo the tether on Ed's hand, and it reached out to grab him when it was freed.

"You need to go back to bed. You need to sleep," said Mustang. He felt the young alchemist shake his head against his shoulder. "You won't get better if you don't sleep, and you won't recover quickly if you stay on the floor. The doctors won't like that." He felt him nod his consent, and he helped the young man to his feet and into the bed. He gently smiled down at Ed. He felt like a bastard when he made that expression. He had hurt the teen and now he was trying to comfort him. He really was a hypocrite. "Go to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up." When he moved to pull away, Edward grabbed hold of his arm, and held on. He blinked in surprise. When did Ed get so needy, for lack of a better word? "I am going to go home to get some clothes for you to change out in. I'll be right back." Ed shook his head, held on with both of his hands. He gave a small tug to pull the tall man back to him. "You're not going to let me go anywhere, are you?" Ed shook his head again. Roy sighed. "Fine," He pushed Ed over, and laid down on the hospital bed next to him. "I'll stay if that's what you want."

The teen fiddled with a piece of Mustang's sleeve for a minute. An inner turmoil warred within him. He did not understand why he latched himself onto the man like that. It felt like he was being abandoned by him. He was afraid that Mustang really was going to leave him forever if he did not hold on tight enough. He stared at the fabric that covered the arm that he held. Why did he feel like this? Why did it feel like Mustang was going to forsake him if he lets go?

"Edward," he heard Mustang say to him. He craned his head up to look into the eyes that were knitted with worry. "Are you okay?" He looked away and curled himself tightly around the arm that was in his hands. What was he supposed to say to him? There was a whirlwind of emotions blowing inside of him that he could not make sense of. He did not know where one emotion ended and where the other began. There were some that were so well blended together that he could not tell them apart. He felt the bed beneath him depress as weight was shifted. An arm wrapped around him and he was pulled into a comforting embrace that he had long forgotten.

"Ed, I'm sorry about the things that I've said to you." Roy gazed down at Ed, who refused to look up. "I know what I said was harsh and that I can never take the words back, but please forgive me." Edward did not reply, but nuzzled himself further into the person that caused him so much pain and comfort. He closed his eyes, and, with the help of the remnants of the sedative that was within him, he fell back to sleep. Roy watched the petite teen sleep, not daring to move from his spot. The grip around his arm relaxed naturally as Ed slept. He suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be at work about this time. He rolled over on his back, reached for the phone that was next to the bed, and dialed the number. He hoped that Hawkeye was in a good mood, but he doubted it since she most likely waited outside of his house for him to answer the door. Someone answered the phone.

"Mustang's office," came a male voice over the line. "Havoc speaking."

"Havoc, is Hawkeye there?" said the Colonel.

"Yes, and she's pretty pissed at you," said Havoc with a snicker. "What do you want written on your tombstone?"

"Here lies Roy Mustang whose final wish was that all female personal in the military are required to wear short miniskirts."

Mustang heard someone else speaking on the other end, and whatever they asked, Havoc replied, "Yeah it's him."

"You better have a good reason as to why I was waiting at your front step for thirty minutes," came the angry voice of Riza Hawkeye.

"I'm very sorry about that, and I do have a very good reason," said Roy as he looked down at the sleeping body next to him. "Edward is in the hospital."

"What happened?" All of the anger was wiped out of her voice.

"I'll explain when you get here. Central Hospital, room 325, on the third floor."

"I'm on my way." The other end clicked, and he heard the dial tone. He placed the phone back into its cradle, returned to his original position, and waited.

The funny thing about time is that there is so much of it and yet not enough. Once a moment has passed there is no way of recovering it. He remembered numerous occasions where he wished that he could go back to change something that already happened. However, time, like life, can only go forward and never backwards. It just marches on like a soldier. Though, the strangest thing about it is the fact that time is dictated by the rhythmic ticking of small pieces of sticks spinning around in a circle. No mortal can control time like the clock. It just counts down someone's life in such a surreal fashion that the mind can only began to comprehend it. It ticks and then chimes when an hour of life has been lost, an hour that no one could ever get back. So the minutes just slowly ticked by for Roy Mustang as he laid there in bed with a sleeping Edward. However, he needed to go to the bathroom, and the need continued to grow as the seconds flew by. He carefully maneuvered his way out of the bed as not to disturb the resting teenager. He hurried across the room to the attached bathroom.

* * *

Something did not feel right to him. He was holding onto something, something precious, and now it was gone.

_Where did it go?_ thought Ed hazily as he slowly opened his eyes. They felt a little crusty, so he rubbed them. He placed his hand back down to strengthen his hold on the arm, yet there was nothing there. He immediately sat up, and looked around the room. Mustang was gone, and an unexplainable panic set in. Did Mustang really leave him like he said that he would earlier? Ed heard the toilet flush, and the Colonel reentered the room. His hand shot out in the man's direction. He needed to feel the reassurance that Mustang did not abandon him, yet why did he feel that way? He did not understand these feelings that he had, but it did not matter. He would think about it later because for now he let his actions speak for itself. His fingers clenched and unclenched in eagerness for Roy's return.

When Roy finished his business and returned to the room, he noticed that Edward was sitting bolt upright in the bed. He was looking around, and when his golden eyes found him, he reached out for him with a desperate hand. He blinked in surprise at the odd behavior. Ed had never reached out for him ever, let alone in apprehension. Roy's heartstrings were tugged as he went to the boy's side. Ed latched onto him again in a tight grip.

"I'm sorry," said Roy as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Nature called." It felt weird for him to apologize for something like that, but he felt obligated to.

It felt nice to Ed. Now Mustang was back with him, the panic subsided within him. He leaned back against the headboard of his bed. His fingers started to play with the cuff of Mustang's sleeve.

"Are you hungry? I can order some food for you." Roy stated. Ed was about to say no, but he thought better of it. He did not want the man to force food down his throat or anything like that, so he nodded. Roy reached over to the side table for a menu of the hospital food, and handed it to Ed. "Pick out whatever you want." Ed held the menu as if he was afraid that it would bite him. His eyes scanned for something to eat, and he finally made his selection. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. He blinked in surprise and tried again, but something reached up inside of him and blocked the words from coming out. He lifted up his hand and grasped his neck. He rubbed it and tried again. Still nothing came out. He did not understand what was going on. He had been talking just fine earlier but now, nothing. Mustang was watching him with a confused expression.

"What's wrong?" asked Roy. Ed tried to say that he did not know, but once again the words were stuck in his throat. What was exactly wrong with him? What did it mean? "Can you speak?" He tried to say no, yet there was no sound. He shook his head to give Roy a response. "I'll get a nurse." Roy left the room, and he later came back with a nurse. The nurse looked him over, and her brow furrowed.

"I'll call Dr. Weismann." She dialed a number, and her voice went over the P.A system. "Dr. Weismann, please report to room 325. Dr. Weismann, please report to room 325." She hung up the phone. The nurse tried to have Ed say something while they waited. No matter how hard he tried, the words never escaped his voice box. His shoulders slumped and he gave up trying. Dr. Weismann came, and ushered Mustang out of the room. He waited outside, and Hawkeye found him.

"I apologize for my tardiness," she said with great disdain. "General Hakuro needed me to do something for him. What happened?" In a hushed voice he explained what had happened earlier that morning (giving her vague details), and what was happening at that moment. "He cannot say a word?" Roy shook his head.

"The doctor is looking him over right now." he said. After a few minutes of waiting, the tall doctor exited the room and closed the door behind him. "What's wrong with him, doctor?"

"Physically, nothing." sighed Weismann. "There is nothing physically wrong with him that would prevent him from speaking. I believe that it's all psychological."

"Psychological?" asked Roy.

"Yes, I believe that he has purposely sealed up his words. As to the reason why, that remains a mystery to me. All I know is that he won't talk. I don't know how long he'll stay like that. Could be a few days, months, even years. It really depends on how traumatic the event was, and his frame of mind. There is nothing else I can do. I've already told him of my theory. You may go back in to see him." Riza listened with tension.

_Why would Edward willing seal up his words? _she thought. He was a very vocal person if his actions could not speak for him. _How would he get by?_

The doctor left, and Roy stared after him before he went back into Ed's room. Ed was sitting on his bed with his head twisted away to stare out of the window. Riza followed Roy in, and he shut the door behind them. Ed did not look at them but continued to stare out of the window.

"Hey," said Roy. Ed turned his head to acknowledge him and went back to the window. "Hawkeye's with me. She wanted to see how you're doing." Riza sat down on the bed.

"Hello, Edward. Are you feeling well?" asked Hawkeye. She reached up to pull a strand of hair out of his face, but he recoiled away from the touch. She looked at him confused, but she let it slide, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Riza silently watched Ed.

"The doctor told us what is going on. I was hoping that you can explain some of it from your point of view." Ed's head snapped around to glare at her. How the hell was he supposed to explain it when he could not even say a word? He did not even know why he had become a mute. His gaze softened as he pondered upon this. There must be a reason. There was always a reason for everything. The most complex situation can always be explained by a simple reason, so says Occam's Razor. Maybe the rule could help explain it, but there were too many complex thoughts and feelings blocking the reason. He threw himself into science because science could explain, and be applied to everything. However, science had failed him this time. Science could not explain why he turned himself mute.

He wanted to growl in frustration, but he did not bother trying. Why was his mind doing this? Why? Why? Why? What did it mean? What was the meaning behind all of this? Was his subconscious trying to tell him something or protect him? It all was so confusing. He glanced out of the window again. Now that had he become a mute, what would happen to him? What was he supposed to do now that he had sealed up all of his words? He knew that the words were there. He could feel them rattling inside of a chest that was chained up, but he did not know where the key was. The harder that he tried to pick the lock, the more complicated the lock became. He sighed and laid down on the bed with his back facing his guests. He came to the conclusion that it did not matter anyway. He could go without talking. It was not like anyone heard what he said anyway. Yet there was one nagging fear in the back of his mind.

Would he ever speak again?

* * *

I hope you have enjoyed the next installment to Deus Ex Machina. Please review and tell me what you think of it. I really do want to know you opinion. Also reviews might help me update faster. Go check out the story updates and news section on my profile to see updates of your favorite fanfic, and to see previews of any upcoming fanfic that I am currently writing. Hopefully, I'll be able to update again soon. I would also like to thank those who have reviewed, and have added this story and me to their favorites and/or alerts. You have no idea what it means to me to know that I am not a horrible writer. Also please go check out my oneshot Soldier Side, and go read the first 9 chapters of this story.

Have a nice day! Thank you for reading!


	11. The Funhouse

Pojo-san: *playing at her computer*

Greg-kun: Pojo-san, what are you doing?

Pojo-san: *tenses* Working on the next chapter.

Greg-kun: Oh really? Does writing the next chapter involve you healing a paladin tank, or trying to kill a certain number of raptors.

Pojo-san: I'm, uh, taking a break. You know you can't write all of the time. It fries the brain. Got to relax somehow. *continues playing on her computer*

Greg-kun: Pojo-san, we need to have a talk. I believe that World of Warcraft is starting to effect your daily life. You are forgetting your duties as a writer.

Pojo-san: Oooh! Those shoes will give me +9 intellect, +6 spirit, and increase my spell power by 4. It will help me a lot with my healing. I'm going to have to need that. *clicks Need*

Greg-kun: That's it! *drags Pojo-san away from her computer and down the hall* You have been promising to update Deus Ex Machina for a year and 5 months! You are going to update that story whether you want to or not!

Pojo-san: No! My priest! I'm almost to level 54!

Greg-kun: Your priest will be there when you get back.

Pojo-san: But- but- but my priest!

Greg-kun: Quit your eternally bitching and start writing!

Pojo-san: You're so mean! T.T

Yes, it's me again. And no, this is not another author's note. This is the real chapter 11 of Deus Ex Machina. No, I have not been playing World of Warcraft so much that I forget to write. I put that up there as a joke. There are other reasons why I have not been writing or updating. The biggest reason is that I have some serious writer's block when it comes to this story. Writer's block is your subconscious telling you that something is wrong with your story, so I need to comb through this story again. I have a pretty good idea of what is wrong with DEM. I'm going to have to rewrite chapters 1, 2, 3, and possibly 5. Seriously, they need a major overhaul. I also have been writing other stories such as Addiction and the Real Monster. I have not posted up The Real Monster yet, but Addiction is up. I'll write more on that in the author's note at the end of this chapter. I have started college, I am working again, I take one of my friends to college because she does not have a car herself, and I have been beta reading stories. So as you can imagine, my schedule is pretty full. I hardly have time for myself anymore. Sigh... Anyway, if you need a beta reader just drop me a line, and I can beta read for you.

**Here is some big news.** I am going to enable anonymous reviews. So for those of you who do not have an account with FFnet, you can now review my stories. I thought long and hard on it and I though why the hell not. HOWEVER, if you send me nothing but flames I will report them and delete them from the review board. Sending flames is pathetic and it only proves that you have self-esteem issues. I will not tolerate this. Do not abuse this opportunity to anonymously submit your review. I will only accept those that have constructive criticism.

Now that is over lets get the disclaimer and warnings out of the way.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Fullmetal Alchemist. This is story is a parody of the show.

Warnings: This chapter adult language and some violence

Rating: M for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Please enjoy the next installment of Deus Ex Machina!

* * *

Chapter 11

The Funhouse

"Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves- regret for the past and fear for the future."—Fulton Oursler

* * *

A few days had passed since Ed's second attempt to take his life. The nurses told him that he should be released soon after a few more hours of observation. Mustang sat in the hospital chair that was next to his bed. He was reading over some paperwork and signing them here and there. Hawkeye brought them to the hospital for him during her lunch break yesterday. Edward was reading a novel about a man seeking forgiveness for a horrendous crime, an idea that Edward was all too familiar with, when a sharp knock at the door caught his attention. The door opened a crack, and Havoc's head popped into the room.

"Hey, Edward," said Havoc as he pushed open the door. He walked in with Furery and Breda following him. "How have you been?" He slapped Ed on the back. Edward reached up to his throat and rubbed it in an attempt to signal the man that he could not speak. His message fell on deaf ears.

"Why are you rubbing your neck? Are you in pain?" asked Havoc. Ed shook his head.

"Fullmetal cannot talk," said Mustang as his hand gave a small flourish when he signed a document. He capped his pen and placed his work in the briefcase at his feet.

"Why? Did he lose his voice in the attack?" Edward shot Mustang a confused a look. He did not remember being attacked at all.

"Yes he did," said Mustang. "His vocal cords are paralyzed. The doctors believe that it is temporary, but they do not know when he will gain full function again." Mustang folded his arms across his chest. His eyes slid over to Edward who had a surprised look on his face. Realization dawned on him. Mustang was covering for him. He spread a rumor that explained both of Edward's wounds and condition. He felt a bizarre feeling bubble up in his chest. It took him a while to identify it as gratitude. He never thought he would be grateful toward Mustang. Mustang's gaze quickly darted away as he meet the eyes of his other subordinates. "Now, would you mind explaining why you are not at the office?"

"Hawkeye said that Ed was going to get out of the hospital today," said Breda. "She said we could see him." Mustang nodded at that.

"So Ed," said Havoc as he situated himself against a wall. "I heard they got you good." His eyes traveled down to the bandages that were wrapped around Edward's arms. Edward merely nodded. "I never thought that someone could sneak up on you. First time for everything, I guess." Havoc filled him in on things that had happened in the office while he was in the hospital. Breda was telling him a story about a prank he pulled on Falman. Edward was smiling gently throughout the story. About two hours passed when Mustang ushered them out of the room. They said their goodbyes.

"You shouldn't do that," said Mustang as the boor clicked shut. Ed gave him a puzzled look. "You shouldn't fake your smiles like that. You maybe have them fooled, but you don't have the wool pulled over my eyes. I know how forced your smiles are." Roy then gave him an odd look. It was piercing, but not in an angry or aggressive manner. It was more like he was trying to look past the carefully crafted mask that Ed had built over the years through much effort and hard work. The kind that can be easily slipped on at a moment's notice, the kind that everyone wanted to see. Everyone on the team tried to make him smile and laugh, so he gave them what he wanted. A fake smile here and a fake laugh there. No one noticed the difference. There were times when a few people saw how artificial his smile was, but they did not say anything about it. They just thought that he was trying to be strong for Al. It had taken him years to perfect the fake happiness that he put on display daily, and now it was collapsing right in front of him. There was no doubt in his mind that Mustang saw right through him, right through his mask, and straight into his very being. He did not like that. Ed did not like that one bit, but it was to be expected. Mustang wore a beautifully crafted mask himself. Mustang could easily spot the fakers and the frauds from the crowd, and weed out their true intentions.

Edward broke his eye contact with Mustang's acute gaze.

"Would you like to eat something before you get released later?" asked Roy and Ed nodded at him. "Tell me what you want, and I'll call it in for you." Ed pulled out the menu, and quickly looked it over. He pointed at something that he wanted to eat, but Mustang shook his head. "You need to tell me what you want. Don't point, just talk to me." Ed let out sigh; it was the only thing that he could do, since it did not involve the use of his vocal cords. Mustang had been trying to do this ever since Ed had sealed up his words. He would not ask Ed simple yes or no questions, but ones that needed to be answered with complete sentences. Every time that happened, he would try to say something, but the words would get lost on their way out, like before. He had given up a long time ago, and he only did it to humor Mustang.

Edward opened his mouth, and nothing came out. He shook his head and pointed again at the item that he wanted. Roy did not say anything as he dialed the number for the kitchen, and placed the order.

"Edward, you need to help me help you," said Mustang as he situated himself on the edge of the bed. "Do you even want to talk again?" Ed watched with him with a passive expression before he shrugged his shoulders. He really did not care if he spoke again. It did not make a difference to him. "If you are going to get better, you have to want it. Do you even want to get better?" Ed thought that over for a second. Did he really want to get better? No, he did not want to. What was the point in doing that if it really did not matter? He would most likely end up back right where he started. It would be a waste of time and effort. Edward did not want to give the Colonel a response of any kind. He just scooted himself down his bed a little before lying down on it and rolling over onto his side. He did not move from his spot until his food was brought to his room.

Mustang ran his fingers through his hair, and he wanted to pull it out. He reminded himself that he needed to take this one step at a time. Even though he wanted the old brash and rude Edward back, he could not rush it. Nothing good ever came out of rushing things. Roy would take the cursing, hot-headed disrespectful Edward over this quiet, sorrowful suicidal Edward. He was thankful that he had managed to make Ed realize how much he needed him, but at what cost? Was it really worth it when he had broken the young man's spirit?

The food arrived then, and it was placed on the rolling bed table. The nurse left without a word to tend to his other patients. Ed sat up, pulled the rolling table closer to him, and started to eat. He only took small bites of the food that was given to him like before. Mustang suddenly got an idea on how to get Edward talking again. It would probably be painful on his part, but it was worth a shot.

"You're so _small_ that a dog would mistake you for a chew toy," said Mustang. Ed's knife stopped in mid-slice. "You're so _small_ that I could attach you to my keychain and carry you around in my pocket." Ed was visibly shaking with rage. "You're so _small_ that you could use a kitchen sink as an Olympic size swimming pool." Something went whizzing past Roy's head, and made a loud _thunk_ behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see the metal knife, that Ed was using, vibrating slightly after being driven an inch into the wall behind him. That was not exactly the reaction that he was looking for, so he decided to try a different stratagem to get Ed motivated. He turned his head back around to face Ed, who was glaring at him as if he was daring Roy to say anything else. Roy smirked and said, "Your hair makes me wonder sometimes if you are actually a girl in disguise." Edward flung the fork at him, and he barely got out of the way in enough time before it took out one of his eyes. The fork flew across the room, and buried itself into the wall, only a few centimeters to the left of the knife, halfway up its handle. Ed was visibly fuming, and his face was a deep red. The heart monitor was going crazy as his vital signs skyrocketed. He gripped the rolling table with a dangerous smirk on his face that said, "I dare you." Valuing his life and the walls of the room, Mustang decided not to push Edward any further.

_That didn't work,_ thought Roy. _This must be pretty deep if he's not screaming at me. _

"Finish eating your lunch," said Roy out loud. "And don't ruin the hospital. There are other people that need this place too, you know." Edward glared at him for a second before returning to his meal, deciding to pick at his food with his fingers. He continued to nibble away at his food until he was sure that Mustang was satisfied with what he had eaten, and he did not eat a crumb more. Mustang pulled on his coat. Edward watched him warily, and he answered Ed's unspoken question. "I'm going to go back to the house and get you some clothes to change into." Ed was on him in a flash. The teen jumped out of his bed, ran over to him, and attached himself to Roy. Roy stumbled back a little as Ed slammed his weight into him. He sighed. Edward had been doing this quite a bit ever since his first day in the hospital. He refused to let Roy leave his side. The only time that he was allowed to leave is at night when Edward was fast asleep, and the nurses permitted him to stay that late past visiting hours. The next morning, he would come into the room just to be greeted by a worried Edward. Roy really could not blame the boy for his behavior because he was the one who had made Ed fear that he would abandon him at the drop of a hat.

Roy rubbed his eyes and said, "I'll call Hawkeye, and have her bring some clothes up for you." He maneuvered Ed back to his bed, and made him sit back down on it before he picked up the phone to call the office. Riza picked up, and he relayed his instructions to her.

"I'll be there in twenty," she said before she hung up. Roy sat down on the bed next to the quiet teen as he waited for his lieutenant to come to the hospital. She had been visiting Edward as well, but she could only stay for a few minutes before having to return to HQ. She had been covering Mustang for the past few days, and he was urgently needed back there soon because she could only cover for him for so long. She told him that the higher ups were starting to wonder where he was.

Edward was tracing patterns onto the bed sheet with his finger as he waited. He did that to keep himself busy, but it was only working on his hands. His mind drifted off into space as he thought about the last few days that he had spent in the hospital. He would not allow Mustang to leave him, which he had been trying to figure out. He then theorized that he was afraid that Mustang would make good on his promise to leave and never bother him again. Of course, it was just a theory, but he did not feel like putting it to the test to see if he was correct. The only time that he would let the man leave was at night. Edward did prefer Mustang to sleep in his own bed instead of sleeping at the hospital where he would be uncomfortable. However, that did not stop Ed from being anxious the following morning for the Colonel's return. It was the fear that caused that. He knew better than to think that, but he could not help it. Mustang was all that he had left now.

Ed's eyes stayed on his finger as it aimlessly traveled over the rough fabric of the bed sheets. He heard a knock at the door. Hawkeye had arrived within twenty minutes, as she promised, with a brown paper bag in her hands.

"Colonel," said Hawkeye as she crossed the room. "You should really put the spare key to your home in a better hiding spot instead of putting it at the top of your door frame."

"Duly noted," said the Colonel. "Is that the clothes?" Mustang pointed at the bag, and she nodded.

"Are you getting out today, Edward?" asked Riza, and Ed nodded at her. "You must be happy then because you don't have to eat hospital food anymore. When are you supposed to be released?"

"The nurses said around two," answered Roy. "If the doctor deems Fullmetal healthy enough to leave that is." Ed nodded in agreement.

"That's good." Hawkeye pulled the chair closer to the bed and neatly sat in it. "I can't stay for too long. How have the both of you been doing?" They exchanged pleasantries, but it was more like Hawkeye and Mustang did. Ed, on the other hand, just sat on the bed, feeling like the third wheel. After thirty minutes worth of small talk, Riza stood and said, "I need to go. When are you going to come back to work?"

Mustang stole a quick glance at Edward before he said, "I'll be in tomorrow."

"Very well, I'll see both of you tomorrow." With that Hawkeye turned and left.

After that, time slowly progressed through the day until the designated time for Ed to leave the hospital arrived. A nurse came into the room for one last check up.

"Standard procedure," she said as she checked his vitals. "I need to check your stitches." She rolled up his sleeve and looked over the wound. It still looked nasty, but it was better than the first day when he was brought to the emergency room. She twisted his arm this way and that to get a full look at it before she lightly touched it with a latex-gloved finger. "Does that hurt?" He shook his head. "Good. Are you still unable to speak?" He nodded, and she wrote something down in his chart. "I'll talk to Dr. Weismann and see if he can get you out of here today." She left the room. They both waited for another hour before Dr. Weismann greeted them. The doctor asked Ed some simple yes or no questions concerning his current health before he pulled Mustang out of the room to allow Edward to change.

"Colonel Mustang," said Weismann as soon as the door closed. "You are the legal guardian of Edward Elric, correct?"

"Correct," responded Roy.

"I'll need you to sign some release forms at the nurses' station," said Weismann as he reread what he wrote down on the chart. "Also, I highly recommend that you send Mr. Elric to a psychiatrist."

"For the muteness, right?" asked Roy

"That and for the self-destructive behavior." Mustang's heart thudded loudly in his chest, but he kept a straight face as the doctor stared at him. Weismann sighed and said, "I've worked at this hospital for almost fifteen years, and I've had a lot of people run through the ER with all kinds of injuries from A to Z. I can tell which wounds are self-inflicted. I've seen them before many times, and also because you were spotty on how he got such a deep cut in his arm. Those kinds of injuries happen in only three ways: accidents, assaults, or self-infliction. Now, I've gone through his medical records, and he has quite a colorful history here. He has been in and out of this hospital numerous amounts of time in the past year alone, but those scars were never explained in the records. They were recent and uniform. I knew then that the injury that brought Edward to the hospital was self-inflicted."

Roy stood stiffly, and he slowly asked, "Did you tell anyone?"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality," said Weismann. "I'm bound by law and by my oath as a doctor to not to tell anyone." Mustang let out sigh of relief. "I know a good psychiatrist that is not too far from here. His name is Dr. Douglas. I'll give you his number and the address to his office." Roy blinked in surprise at the name.

"No, that won't be necessary. I know where he is." He would have never thought that he would be going back to Dr. Douglas again after all of this time.

"Excellent, I strongly urge you to make an appointment with him as soon as you can. If Edward begins to have any physical problems, then bring him back straight away. You'll need to make an appointment for a few days later to have his stitches removed, and then the body will take over from there and heal itself completely. However, he will have a large scar there for the rest of his life. He could go to occupational therapy for scar massage therapy. A therapist will massage the scar, and it breaks down the scar tissue, thus reducing its appearance. That is only if he wants to of course. Do you have any questions?"

"Is there anything that I need to look out for, specifically?"

"Keep an eye out for infection in and around Edward's injury. The tell-tale signs that the wound is infected would be inflammation, pain, pus, and if the area feels warm or hot. If you think that he has an infection don't hesitate to bring him back. Is there anything else?"

"No."

"Okay, the nurses at the station will help you. Remember to make that appointment with Dr. Douglas."

Edward stood stiffly on the other side of the door. His heart was hammering hard against his chest. Did he hear right? Was Mustang going to send him to a shrink? If he did go to a shrink, they would probably lock him up in some padded room, force him to wear a straight jacket, and have only doctors visit him. He would not survive a place like that. He would most likely go insane there. He would have to do his best to convince Mustang that he is mentally healthy enough to live in the outside world.

Ed tuned out of the conversation on the other side of the door when Mustang and Dr. Weismann started to talk about appointments and other concerns that the Colonel needed to look out for. He snatched his red coat from the chair and slipped it on. He stood inside the room for a few more seconds to compose himself before he opened the door and stepped out. Dr. Weismann was gone, and Mustang was leaning against the far wall across from his room.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Mustang, and Ed nodded. Roy signed Ed out and made the appointment for Ed to have his stitches removed. The car ride home was silent. When they got home, Mustang made dinner for himself, and Edward sat in the living room. He picked up the newspaper that had been thrown on the coffee table, and began perusing some of the articles. When Roy finished making his cold cut sandwich, he grabbed his mail and checkbook, and sat down on the couch opposite of Ed's. He took a bite out of his sandwich as he sifted through his mail; throwing his junk mail into one pile and placing his bills in another.

Ed looked up from the newspaper, and watched Mustang open up a bill, read its contents, write down the amount of money he owed for that bill, and move on to the next one. Ed found this fascinating. Though every person in the city, he himself included, did this simple act of paying monthly bills, but he never really could picture Mustang doing this. He had never seen the Colonel look so domestic before. It was foreign to him. Roy looked up at him, and the moment that their eyes met, Ed quickly found another article to read.

"I still need to pay the electric company to keep the power on, just like everyone else," said Mustang simply as he threw another advertisement into the junk pile. Once he was finished, Mustang got up to put his dishes in the sink, and started to head up the stairs. "I'm going to bed. Wake me up if you need anything." He changed into his sleepwear, completely drained. He had never realized how emotionally draining it is to deal with attempted suicides. All he wanted to do

was sleep for the rest of the week. He was exhausted. Just a few minutes after his head hit his pillow, he was fast asleep.

Ed was still sitting on the couch. His mind wandered back to his previous riddle of figuring out why he needed Mustang at his side twenty-four seven. Ed moved from the couch. He went up to his room and pulled out his journal.

_Maybe writing about it will help me figure it out,_ he thought to himself as he uncapped his pen and started writing. He wrote about what happened to him last week, about the party, the morning after, and his time in the hospital. He wrote down all of his thoughts and fears, and when he was done he was nowhere closer to the truth than when he started writing. He was about to close his journal when he remembered one more detail.

His pen scratched against the paper as he wrote:

_Sometimes I get this look from the Colonel when I was still in the hospital. I don't know what it is. It's like he's trying to stare right through me, or within me._ Edward's hand stopped for a few moments before it continued with,_ I don't want him to do that. I don't want him to look inside of me. I'm ugly on the inside._

He flipped the pages of his journal to a previous entry. His blood had turned a rusty brown color, but it still held his message from when he first tried to kill himself. His fingers gently stroked the letters, afraid that the blood would chip or peel off. Ed stared at it, his hand caressing it carefully, as he thought back to that day and all of the events that led up to this moment. He was still here. He tried twice to die, and twice he had failed. The first time it was Mustang who pulled him out from death's embrace, and the second time it was his mother and teacher that pushed him back into this world.

Ed angrily snapped the book shut, and laid down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes as he tried to control the torrent of emotions that was inside of him. Slowly he relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

_Edward opened his eyes. The first things that met his eyes were tree branches. They were fanned out, and shaded the area like a large living umbrella. The leaves had turned the sunlight into a beautiful emerald green. He could hear the sounds of people. Their voices were a low murmur, and were the bass and rhythm for the melody of birds that had started to sing and chirp. He then heard a loud shout of joy and fun that was soon joined by the sounds of others. It was hot outside, but it was nice and cool underneath the shade of the tree, very nice. He wanted to close his eyes again, and fall back asleep on the soft grass that had become his bed. Instead, he raised his hand, rubbed his eyes, and slowly sat up. He saw people running around on the large lawn in front of him, while some stayed by themselves, and others were talking to people. One thing that he had noticed was the fact that a vast majority of these people were all wearing the same thing, white loose shirt and pants with some kind of white slippers. The minority were wearing regular clothes that would be found in any department store. He looked down at himself. He was wearing the white clothes as well, and he lightly pulled at his white shirt. _

_Where was he?_

_He looked around some more from his spot underneath the tree. To his right he saw a large multistory building with a stone face and barred windows. His hand glided across the grass until it hit something. He looked down. Next to him were some pieces of paper with transmutation circles drawn on them, a closed sketch pad, and a pencil. His finger lightly traced the outside rim of one of the circles in bewilderment. His hand gradually sashayed over the sketch pad, and he slowly picked it up as if it was going to disappear if he moved any faster. He flipped it over in his hands. He did not remember owning a sketch pad. He flipped through its pages. _

_Each page had a transmutation circle on it. Each one grew more complex than the last, and even more sinister. It first started with the most simple and most basic circle for making origami animals. It then moved onto to circles for shifting and reshaping stone. The next group involved the elements like carbon and nitrogen. That was followed by circles that involved plant life. Then he saw circles for making chimeras, and he stopped. He knew what the next circle was going to be, and with a trembling hand he flipped the page. Staring at him right in the face was the human transmutation circle that he had used on his mother. It was all there; perfectly recreated as if he had drawn it a thousand times. However, it was only the second to last page. There was one more page left in the sketch book, and if he assumed correctly, it was the circle that he feared the most. He did not want to look at it, but he wanted to know. He turned the page and his heart stopped. The circle was complex and truly ominous. It did not have to take an alchemist to realize that the hexagram, the pentagrams, and the symbols bode nothing but misfortune and sin. It was like watching the story of his life was being played out right in front of him in this sketch pad. He heard the grass crunch behind him._

"_Edward?" said a voice behind him gently. He jumped and spun around on the spot. He saw a man dressed in a button up shirt, dress pants, and a tie. The man held up his hands. "It's okay. No reason to be alarmed." His body did not relax at the man's words. He wanted to ask who he was, but nothing came out of his mouth. "You have a visitor." The man stepped aside, and Mustang stepped forward._

"_Hello, Fullmetal," said Mustang with a small smile. _

"_Colonel," said the man. "Just be careful around him. If you need anything, call me." The man left, and he was alone with Mustang._

"_How have you been?" asked Mustang as he knelt down in front of him. Ed blinked in confusion. "I see you still can't talk." Mustang smiled at him as he seated himself on the grass next to Edward. It was quiet for a few moments as Ed stared at Mustang. _

_Why would the Colonel need to see him as a visitor?_

"_I don't remember this tree from the last time I was here," commented Mustang and he pointed upward. "Did you make it?" Ed started at the man, completely confused, until he remembered the pieces of papers next to him. He rifled through them until he found the circle that he was looking for. It was used for creating and growing trees. He must have created the tree before he fell asleep because it was too hot._

"_I recognized your handiwork," said Mustang conversationally, and then his voice turned serious. "I heard from the doctor that you are improving. It's a small improvement, but it's an improvement, none the less. No outbursts in two weeks. That's good." Ed froze at the word doctor. His head whipped around. The barred windows, the way that everyone dressed; it all made sense. "Ed, are you okay?" He quickly picked up his pencil and scribbled a message on it, and showed it to Mustang._

"_You want to know where you are?" asked the Colonel in perplexed tone, and Ed nodded vigorously. Mustang gave him a strange look as he replied, "The same place that you have been for the past five years, Everwood Psychiatric Asylum. Don't you remember? I had to call in a military search when I told you that I was going to bring you here. It took four days, five squads, ten injured, and three dead to find you and bring you in. You've been prone to violent outbursts ever since you got here. You almost killed a nurse when you tried to break out a few months ago."_

_His world shattered. The paper and pencil that he was holding in his hands slipped and fell to the ground. He was really here in an insane asylum. He staggered to his feet, and Mustang rose with him, watching him cautiously. He stared at the ground for a few seconds before he bolted. He went as fast as his legs could go. Mustang called out for security, but he did not turn back. He kept on running to the front gate, towards freedom. The gate slammed shut, and he ran up to the barrier, pulling at the metal frame in a vain attempt to pull it open. He felt someone grab him from behind and throw him back. He landed hard against a wall._

_The sun was gone. The grass, the people, the smell of fresh air, the heat, the light… It was all gone. Now he was in a padded cell. It was cold and dark. The air was musty, dirty, and suffocating. The walls were all white. He tried to put his hands together to make his alchemy, but his arms would not budge. They were strapped down across his chest in a white straitjacket. He tried to struggle free, but he could not. He looked up and saw Mustang standing at the door of his prison cell with a sad look on his face. He took a step towards him, but the dark eyed man just shook his head. _

"_I'm sorry, Edward," said Mustang gravely. "It's a shame really. You were making so much progress." The door started to slowly swing shut as Ed ran for it, but it closed in his face. A loud defining click echoed around the room as a bolt locked the door. There was dark laughter behind him. He spun around to see _it_ sitting on the cot that was his bed._

"_This is where you belong, my love," it said to him. "Did you honestly think that you can live in the outside world? You deserve to be locked up." His guilt smiled at him. "The world needs to be protected from you. You're monster, a freak, an abomination. There are no second chances for you, you sinner. You are going to rot here as everyone out there," His guilt pointed a finger at the door, "Forgets that you even exist. You are trapped here, and there is no way out. You will never see the light of day ever again. This room will be your grave."Ed slid down the wall and situated himself into a corner. He pulled his knees up to his chest, and buried his face into his knees. It was right. He was trapped here. He was sealed off from the rest of the world. This place would surely break him, and he would die here all alone. There was no escape. He was never going to be free._

_Ed cried in his corner as his regret laugh mercilessly.

* * *

_

Pojo-san: There! I'm done. Can I go now?

Greg-kun: No, you need to write chapter 12 now.

Pojo-san: *screams*

There you go. Hoped you had fun reading this. As I was saying above, I have new multi-chapter story up called Addiction. It is a mystery/crime story, so please go check it out and leave a review. I will be posting up The Real Monster a later date, but if you want to know what it is about than check out the Story Updates section on my profile. You can also check out any other stories that I plan on writing and any updates I have on your favorite story in that section.

I should let you know that this story will go on a temporary hiatus. Do not worry! This story will continue, and I will finish this story! I'm just putting it on hiatus so that I can fixed those chapters I have mentioned above, and so that I can get a head start on writing this story. Hopefully, this will not take me another year and 5 months to do. Yes, I have been counting. If you need a beta reader, send me a PM. I put beta reading above writing my own stories, so you will get your stories back quickly. Be sure to check out my other stories, and check out my original work at fictionpress. The link is in my profile at the top.

Have a nice day!


End file.
